


Hardest of Hearts

by Lady_of_Inklings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Agent Viktor Nikiforov, Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, First Meetings, Gen, Kinda a date but not really, Lilia as M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quartermaster Yuuri Katsuki, Secret Agents and shit, Smitten Victor Nikiforov, Tags May Change, Victor with a K, chronology what's that, mentions of art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-05-06 08:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Inklings/pseuds/Lady_of_Inklings
Summary: Between the fleeting strings of time and space, there will be a single occurrence where they cross and tangle to create a perfect crucial moment to bring together two souls.Some call this fate.Viktor called it nonsense.....until he met the new Quartermaster.





	1. Dangle at a Cruel Angle

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I rewatch Skyfall and my shipping senses start tingling.  
> Title comes from 'What Kind of Man' by Florence + The Machine

The painting of the lone figure skater was Viktor's rendezvous point. 

He had been staring at it blankly for the past two hours, sullen and his face devoid of interest. However, the longer he stared at it, the more he noticed; the arched back as the skater glided into a flawless Ina Bruar, the poised legs as they cut through the silver specks of ice, the outstretched elegant arms, palms splayed towards the sky like a prayer. The colours were beautiful, pale shades of blue and green dancing across the fluttering skirt fading as the glaring stark white of the ice took over, turning the skater into a single drop of mercury against the endless scape of white. Blue and black were the darkest of colours, midnight for hair and blue adorning the shoulders, falling victim to the negative space that threatened to swallow up the lone figure.

It was beautiful really. Haunting even.

However, it was only just a painting. Nothing but a sliver of imagination that received nothing more than a hushed mention and passing glance of some tourist. Viktor could care less about a painting, much less art. If he was younger and maybe if he wasn't so cynical, he'd look upon the pastel monstrosity with a hint of care in his eyes. No, it was just a painting in a random fine arts museum in a random city.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a moment to think as his thoughts swarmed around in his head, Viktor felt like a fish in a bowl. His head was throbbing slightly, the stitches on his arm felt like they were burning, and the bruises underneath his sweater persisted like an angry demon below his skin.

At least Viktor had his life. 

His previous mission wasn't a complete disaster but it certainly could've gone smoother. Not everyone could brag that they had saved London from an impending terrorist attack and walk away with only a jagged gash on their arm. It was just another day at the office. 

A cycle that just wore you down, eating away at your mind and your soul; there was no cure other than getting up and doing it all over again. Again and again and again till the rush of adrenaline and the rapid beating of our heart no longer could fill the void of your cold, blackened heart.

It was like a drug to him. 

For the longest time, he considered it his only reason to live but now he wasn't so sure. 

Every mission was a badge, a reminder that he had survived the impossible---that he lived and that he had to keep living till his next mission. Each mission had left a mark on him, some more visible than others. 

In this line of work, you had only two ways out; either the brass let you retire peacefully or you died on the job. Viktor knew he was expendable, it didn't matter if he was the best f the best, there would always be someone smarter, quicker, stronger than him. It was only a matter of time till someone sunk a bullet between his eyes or he accepted the wrong drink from a charming stranger or he found himself with a red smile across his throat. That was just the way it was, Viktor knew what he was signing up from when his organization had recruited him. He was nothing other than a scrap of skin and bones with a razor sharp mind and sticky fingers, starving and determined; no parents, no attachments, no other feelings than ambition and anger---Viktor was the perfect agent who could kill when needed to and survive the most dangerous of situations. He had nobody to hold him back but his own conscious which was swiftly struck down in one stroke when he signed his soul and skills away to Lilia at the age of fifteen.

The deal was worth it, he survived the bitterly cold streets of his home. He made it, he lived. That was all that mattered at that time. Many of his comrades had fallen, literally. Death swallowed them up eagerly as they fell to their own hubris and mistakes, Viktor was the last of his batch. He was alone once more. Even now, their faces flash behind his eyes like passing street lights. Names, hobbies, skills. It was just a blurry flare of colours and memories that reminded him of his own startling mortality.

Viktor often thought about retiring on days such as these, he was in his early thirties and every mission was just one step towards death. How much more abuse could his body take before it was too late? He had perhaps one or two more years left in him. It was getting impossible for him to get up in the morning without feeling a persistent strain on his body, even now his joints feel stiff and sore due to the air conditioning. 

How long could he go on like this? How long till he eventually ran into deaths waiting for embrace?

Viktor had slipped out of the bony and fractured arms of death over and over and over. 

When would death get him; today, tomorrow, the week after, within a month, or a year?

Or would death greet him like an old friend?

He didn't know but he knew he had no other choice other than foolish self-preservation and a lost sense of duty to keep going like a never-ending comet shooting through the cosmos. He's gone around and around and around till he burned himself out, letting pieces of himself chip away like ice. 

The only thing about him that would survive the onslaught would be his legacy.

 _Legacy._ He hated that word. Legacy was something he would never see, it would be the only thing left of him when he died.

The painting of the lone figure felt like a distorted reflection of himself. All he could see was white, the only speck of colour was his eyes and even he noticed how glassy they looked in his bathroom mirror. He had no purpose other than his missions, no one to warm his bed, no one to hold onto. His life was bleak and colourless, the monochromatic spin of missions and kills and gadgets and scars.

He really shouldn't be complaining (if you could even call it that.)

Viktor had saved the world at least five times, it was his job to do so but at what price? He had already given away his soul, his zeal for life, and his body. All he had left was his Makkachin and a handful of colleagues that he considered close enough to be friends. Did they consider him as a friend or an asset? Chris, Yakov, Yuri? What did they see him as other than a so-called 'living legend?'

How the mighty have fallen, he thought as he opened his eyes slowly. There's a wry smile on his face as Viktor let his shoulders slouch. There was no need to keep up pretences now. He let out an irritated huff, blowing the stray bangs of silver away from his face as he checked the time once again. The minutes ticked on by, mingling together with the second till they produced another hour and Viktor allowed himself to worry. He felt it creep up on him, his body grew tense.

Yakov was never this late. 

He checked the time again, confused. Yakov, no matter how busy, was always punctual. It had been one of his many traits along with his stubbornness and red-hot temper. 

Viktor went still, his blood singing past his ears in a rhythmic manner as he slowly reached into his inner pockets for his gun which was safely hidden away. His eyes slid over the patrons of the exhibit, slowly and analytical; there was a couple admiring a sculpture, a mother silently scolding a child, a few art students littering around with their sketch pads, an old man sitting on one of the benches, a woman taking a selfie with one of the paintings. Nothing out of the ordinary but Viktor was a trained spy with a pair of keen eyes, he was always careful and just because he was off duty didn't mean that he was always safe. 

Over the years, he gained a fair share of enemies that would love nothing more than his pretty silver head on a platter. Many assassination attempts had been made on his life before, none of them successful but that was only a matter of luck and time. 

He scoffed. This would be a stupid place to kill him. There were too many witnesses, only two escape routes, and the police would be on the scene in minutes. It wasn't very practical. 

Yakov was an old man, the best spy he'd ever met but everybody made a mistake. He didn't dare think of Yakov's death, the thought of his body lying in some alleyway left a sour taste in his mouth. Agents died before, Viktor didn't feel much besides pity but Yakov wasn't just an agent; he was veteran and an old friend. His mind came up with more sensible reasons for why he was late; he was stuck in traffic or he was caught up with Lilia again or maybe he was just held up back at HQ. 

(Or maybe Viktor was becoming too paranoid......)

He got up, ignoring his arm. His hand was still wrapped around the hilt of the gun when he turned around sharply to meet a pair of startled brown eyes.

Viktor went still, frozen like a marble statue as his grip on his gun loosened.

"Sorry I'm late, Vitya." The man with the glasses chirped, his voice loud enough for others to hear. He smiles gently, his lips curving like the blade of a knife as he regards Viktor. "Traffic was terrible."

He felt like a rookie fresh from training when the dark-haired man leaned in, gave him a soft but chaste peck on the cheek. Viktor wasn't the one to be caught off guard by anything, he was a spy for god's sake but even he fell victim to a pretty face with a wickedly well thought out plan. And he called him Vitya, nobody had called him that for a long time. The people who did were long gone and six feet underground. To hear that name scratched at closed wounds, the pain wasn't fresh but it was familiar. He ignored it, wrapping his arms around the stranger's thin waist, his hand brushing down his back and sides slowly looking for a weapon. He found none which was unusial

"Yakov sent me," He whispered into his ear. His breath was hot, brushing over the shell of his ear like a lovers kiss. "If you're done groping me, you can put away the gun now, Agent." 

"You can never be too careful," Viktor responded. The both of them sink back down into the bench, their thighs almost touching. He can feel the pleasant warmth eradicating off of the strange man, and oddly enough, he moves in closer till he gets a whiff of cologne that reminds him of cardamom and aster. 

To the outside world, they looked like a pair of lovers on a date but in reality, they barely knew each other's names.

"So," He starts off casually as he could. The heat in his cheeks is yet to die down. "Where's Yakov?"

The man smiles, the corners of his lips quirk up slightly, almost bashful. "I assume you haven't heard. He's retired."

Oh.

Well.....that's good?

Retirement is rare for his kind, there was a very slim chance of ever reaching that age. Most agents weren't that lucky. He was happy for Yakov, truly. He wasn't hurt that Yakov didn't even bother to tell him of his retirement. Yakov must've either been forced to retire or he was just really sick of agents continuously destroying his gear. Viktor betted on the latter given how he was one of those said agents.

"That's a pity," Viktor muses, put off by the fact that he wasn't informed. "Nobody told me that the tough old bear was retiring. I could've gotten him a farewell present."

"I'm afraid you've missed the party." 

"Tell me at least Lilia attended."

He nodded, chuckling silently. "Even gave him a car as a present."

Viktor hums, the corner of lips quirking up. "I'm sure he must've liked that."

"Depends," The stranger shrugs, nonchalantly. "Do you think a Benz is too much?"

"For an ex-lover? Probably not." He laughs quietly to himself. "Given how you're here, I assume you're the new our Quartermaster."

"You assume correctly." A small briefcase slides between them, the cold pointed edge digging into Viktors thigh. Viktor didn't even notice him bring it out. "Yuuri Katsuki."

"Viktor Nikiforov." 

"I know." 

Viktor raises an eyebrow when he shakes Yuuri's outstretched hand. "Oh?"

"I've been following your career for a while now," Yuuri admits. If he was embarrassed by it, he didn't say anything but Viktor did notice the way his fingers tightened around his. He kept that in mind. "It's an honour to finally meet you. I've heard many things about you, Agent."

He smiles politely. He's not really sure how to respond to that.

Viktor knew that his status as the legendary spy that saved the world fives times was more on an exaggeration than a mission statement but Viktor was indeed the best of the best which meant that a whole new generation of spies would've gone through training hearing the heroic and stupidly reckless tales of Viktor Nikiforov.

Was Yuuri Katsuki one of those recruits?

What possible ridiculous tales could he have heard about during training?

He eyes the simple sweater and slacks he wore, nothing really screamed dangerous about him. Viktor gave him a quick lookover, confirming that he had no weapons hidden on him. Not even a small knife attached to his wrist. The small bashful smile that adorned his face was demure and equally polite; Viktor didn't see a wolf in those dark brown eyes and the thought filled him with a sense of worry.

"Good things, I hope." 

Yuuri bites down on his lip. "Yakov has said favourable things about you," he lies. 

It was rare for someone so young and so inexperienced to gain such a high position as Quartermaster. (Did Lilia finally lose her mind or did Yakov develop dementia when he wasn't looking?) He doesn't sense danger from him, only a certain degree of friendliness and comfort that projects from him like heat from a lamp. Then again, Viktor has been wrong before. He isn't the only one known to wear a mask. 

Yuuri Katsuki is nothing like Yakov Feltsmen and Viktor doesn't expect him to be. 

Viktor pushes those thoughts to the side, thumbing open the briefcase, easily able to work through the locks. The case opens by itself, revealing its contents. Inside rests a simple handgun, a watch, and what appears to be car keys. 

"That's it?" Viktor asks confusingly as he picks up the car keys and examines them. Nothing really looks out of the ordinary, it's just a regular set of car keys. Even the gun and watch look mundane. "No exploding pens?"

"Exploding pens?" Yuuri looked at him with an amused expression, a small chuckle tumbled from his lips. He gestured at the contents of the case. "Why would I give you an exploding pen? From what Yakov has told me, you have a bad habit of making a mess."

"I feel like you've simplified just a bit." Viktor picks up the gun slightly, testing its weight and checking if it was loaded. It was a standard handgun; sleek and heavy. Small enough to conceal but large enough to do some damage. "Mr. Katsuki, are you enjoying yourself?"

" _What?_ " He stressed, laughing incrediously. Yuuri rolls his eyes. He gives him a look that makes Viktor feel like he's being chastised. "You've saved the world five times, I highly doubt you had an exploding pen or a jet at your disposal. I think you can make do with these." He leans in, his hand plucks the gun out of Viktors fingers and places it back into the briefcase. "And considering how much grief you caused the previous Quartermaster, consider yourself lucky that I'm even giving you anything at all." 

Of course, Yakov would. It must've been payback for all of those times Viktor put him through hell. Sending in someone like Yuuri Katsuki was a way for both Lilia and Yakov to ring in Viktor from his more destructive and reckless decisions. 

"Don't give me that look, Agent." Yuuri shakes his head. "You show me you can handle a mission without destroying my equipment and I'll see if I can get one of those exploding pens you seem to favour." 

"What look?" Viktor asks innocently, he can't help if his words come out dubious. "This is my usual face." 

"You look like someone snatched away your favourite toy." 

"The watch?" Viktor ignores the previous statement. He presses his thumb across the dial, swiping at the glassy surface. "What's this suppose to do? Track? Explode? Function as a com unit?" He asks sarcastically. 

"It tells the time," Yuuri said flatly. 

He wants to scream. He feels like a kindergartner facing the wall, somewhere up in her tower, Lilia must've been cackling out of sheer glee. A small part of him curses the fact that Yakov retired, he was the only person willing to put up with Viktor and now he too was gone. 

"It glows in the dark." He offers weakly. "It's indestructible too." 

"That's......useful."

(What exactly was Viktor suppose to do with an indestructible glow in the dark watch? Shine a light on some lackie and blind them?) 

"Not really one of my favourites, really," Yuuri admits. "I personally thought we should use it as a tracker given how many times you've got off the radar—-" Viktor doesn't even bother to look guilty. "—-but Madame Lilia thought we should give you a glow in the dark watch for some reason."

"Tell her I said thank you." He bites out. 

"I'll try." Yuuri clears his throat. "Anything else?"

Viktor jingles the car keys in front of them, disturbing the air of silence that formed a bubble around them. "The car keys?"

"Ah. That would be me extending an olive branch." Yuuri snatches the car keys away, letting out an annoyed huff as he places them back into the small case. 

"In what part of the world do you hand over an Aston Martin as an olive branch?" He asks bewildered. 

"In a world where you live, Agent." Yuuri easily shoots back with ease. He narrows his eyes at Viktor, all traces of friendliness suddenly gone. "I'm giving it to you because I trust you'll bring it back in one piece." 

"You're placing a rather generous amount of trust in me, Mr. Katsuki," Viktor noted, allowing himself to tease the new Quartermaster. He grins. "Do you give sophisticatedly upgraded Aston Martins to every agent that comes to you? I don't see how I'm being punished here." 

"No. Only _you_ , Agent." Yuuri leans in closer to Viktor till they're only inches apart from each other. His eyes are unwavering, dark, and razor focused as the gleam up at him. Viktor doesn't dare breathe or move, every instinct in his body screaming at him to back away from this man but he ignores them, keeping his eyes levelled with Yuuri's. They're so close that Viktor could lean forward and kiss Yuuri's lips. The thought is an interesting one, it's tempting. "And you'll understand the consequences if I find I scratch on that car. Do I make myself clear?" 

Yuuri pulls away from him, slipping back into a carefully tailored mask that leaves Viktor reeling. He was left vulnerable, hazy, and dazed. It was as if someone had scrambled his mind till even he could no longer discern what was fact and what fiction. 

(Viktor was stupid to underestimate this man.)

"Crystal," Viktor forces the word out. 

"Good," Yuuri hums contentedly. " I need to go back to the lab in a few hours. Is there anything else I can do for you, Agent?"

"Call me Viktor?" Viktor asks teasingly, he winces when his voice comes out slightly breathless. Yuuri rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. "Fine. You could kiss me again?

"Do you like the painting?" Yuuri asks instead of kissing Viktor. He crosses his ankles, bracing his hands on the marble bench and leaning back. "It's beautiful, don't you think? Simple but elegant, a single moment of time captured so wonderfully by fragile hands. It makes you think, right? About life and love and all those small things we take for granted."

"It's lonely," Viktor responds, keenly aware of the way his heart clenches in his chest. "I don't see the appeal. You have a questionable taste in art, Mr. Katsuki." 

"You don't like it, Agent?" Yuuri asks. He stood up gracefully, throwing one last glance at the painting. His eyes glimmer behind his glasses, protecting something that even Viktor can't decipher. "I think it's beautiful."

"Yes, perhaps." He agrees. Viktor turns around to face Yuuri only to find him gone, the only indication of his existence is the sleek briefcase next to Viktor and the lingering scent of Yuuri's cologne. It was like he never even existed. " _Beautiful._ "


	2. The Questions I Have for a Sinner like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri learns a lot of things about Agent Nikiforov over time.  
> The more he knows, the more he understands why his previous boss was so eager to retire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from 'Never Let Me Go' by Florence + The Nightengale.

Yuuri learns a lot of things about Agent Nikiforov over time. 

The more he knows, the more he understands why his previous boss was so eager to retire. You can only take so much before you start losing your hair. For now, Yuuri is thankful that his hair is still rooted to his scalp. 

“Agent Nikiforov,” he’s said, stretching the syllables dangerously. Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose, reminding himself to breathe. He’s livid, his blood is close to boiling point. “What in god's name did you do to the car I gave you?” 

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Bastard. “Well, you see---”

“Yes, I do see,” Yuuri bites out. He doesn’t mean to sound harsh but he feels like he’s chastising a child instead of a highly trained secret agent. “Answer the question straight, Nikiforov. How exactly do you destroy a multi-million dollar state of the art car?”

The sad and belittled remains of the Aston Martin only look pitiful, misshapen and bent as they lay on the floor of his lab. It’s not the Aston Martin that he cares about, it’s only a car and the agency has enough fund to buy another shell. No, what hurts more is the precious amount of time Yuuri spent building the inside of the car from scratch. He almost feels like weeping when he stares at it, mourning the miserable state of the interior of the car. 

He should’ve given the Aston Martin to Agent Altin but _no_ , Yuuri just had to give it to the handsome spy with pretty eyes and a terrible streak of destroying his gear. The gear was fine (it really wasn't but not the point) and Yuuri just wished that the car would survive the past twelve missions. A bump and a scratch were fine, easily fixed, minuscule even, but _this_..... Thirteen must've been a truly unlucky number. Viktor would be lucky if Yuuri even bothered to give him an explosive pen after this whole fiasco but Madame Lilia would have his ass served on a silver platter if their best agent died because Yuuri didn’t give him the proper equipment. 

“Agent, Look at the state of the car,” Yuuri turns back to Viktor, incredulous. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“In my defense, I saved a square full of people from being killed.” Yuuri grits his teeth. “I’m sorry? But I can try to apologize on behalf of the Albanian mob. Who knew they carried grenade launchers?” 

He didn't have an issue with Viktor following and saving people, that was his job after all. It had only been a year, he counted at least three agents (Viktor included) that had completely wrecked his gear. While Agent Lee and Agent Altin only wrecked their gear by mistake, Viktor had a streak of bringing back either pieces or nothing which only infuriated Yuuri further. He had spent countless hours overtime just painstakingly putting gadgets back together or creating them from scratch. Already he could ask Madame Lilia asking him why he would need an increase in budget. 

“My instructions were clear. I believe I said bring it back in one piece,” Yuuri raises his eyebrow in an almost scathing manner. It gives him only a little satisfaction to see a small glimmer of guilt flash behind those usually cool eyes. “Not bring back one piece.”  
Viktor, the most brilliant spy with a charming smile and an unusually dangerous mind, slips in next to Yuuri. The smile doesn't drop onto his face when he lifts up Yuuri’s gloved hand and holds it gingerly to his chest. The lab falls silent when Yuuri narrows his eyes into dangerous slits.  
Yuuri had a year’s worth of experience to know the next words that’ll fall from his curved lips. 

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, _Yuuri._ ” 

He violently suppresses the shiver that travels down his spine.

Of course, if Viktor is in a tough situation he’ll either fight his way out of flirt his way it. Agent Plisetsky appropriately named it The Fight or Flirt response. He hates the way Viktor says his name like a cat toying with a mouse, stringing the words along like bait hoping for Yuuri to let down his walls before pouncing. The words are a promise and Yuuri isn’t stupid enough to trust a spy. He may work with them, he may provide gear for them, and he may help ensure their safety but he was smart. Yuuri had several Ph.D.’s including one in detecting complete and utter bullshit. Yuuri could easily skin the meat of Viktor’s bone with his words alone but today, he’s not in the mood to let Viktor bat his pretty eyelashes at him and walk out of his lab with almost no consequences. 

He’s dealt with worse than just overzealous spies.  
“Oh?” He does something completely unexpected instead because he’s feeling particularly reckless today, grabbing onto Viktor’s tie and tugging him so close that his lips lie on centimeters away from him. Yuuri fights to quell the smug thought of making Viktor Nikiforov blush. Viktor’s eyes widen and for the briefest of moments, Yuuri doesn't want to look away. His knuckles turn bone white as he tightens his grip on the black strip of silk. “Really? Unless you have about four million laying around in one of your offshore accounts, I doubt you’d be able to make it up to me. You’d be lucky if I give an explosive pen after this, Agent.” 

“Well…..Yuuri.” He says breathlessly. Yuuri congratulates himself when he doesn’t melt into a puddle when Viktor says his name like that. “I---”

“Over the past year, you’ve destroyed every single piece of equipment that I’ve given you. I understand that you save the world on an almost monthly basis but I'm drawing the line at the car. Do remember this---” Yuuri leans in, his lips brushing past the shell of Viktor’s ear. He whispers, “---I can ensure that you’ll go on your next mission with nothing more than the clothes on your back and a paperclip. I am not some simpering wide eye green boy straight out of the academy for you to flirt past nor am I Yakov to forgive you so easily.” Viktor gulped audibly, Yuuri loosens his grip on Viktor’s silk tie and lets the material slowly slip away from his grasp as he stares up into Viktor’s eyes. “Do I make myself clear, Agent?” 

“Crystal.” He nods slowly. Red tickles his face and his lips are parted in a breathless whisper. For a short moment, Yuuri wonders what would it feel like to lean forward and claim those lips. It would certainly make a statement but Viktor the look on Viktor’s face told him to let the poor man go. 

Not all spies were invincible. Especially Viktor Nikiforov. 

“Good,” Yuuri purrs. He dips underneath Viktor’s arm outstretched arm, fingers still splayed against the melted reinforced steel, ignoring the look he receives from Phichit as he picks up his laptop. There’s a wicked and cold smile that tightens across his face like an overstretched drum. “Now….. go to Madame Lilia and tell her that I’ll be busy for the next two weeks fixing your mess. Again.”  
He walks away, head held eye and eye burning as he leaves Viktor behind. 

It’s only till he’s out of sight that Viktor leans against the metal shell of the destroyed car, one hand over his heart and another clutching onto the frame with an iron-like grip. 

Yuuri Katsuki will be the death of him. 

Of that he is certain, his beating heart is a testament to that. 

Viktor doesn’t miss the mischievous look Phichit passes him, it reminds him all too well of Chris when he slinks past him. “Don’t you have to report to Madam Lilia, Agent Nikiforov?” The tan-skinned man asks. He leans against one of the work tables with his arms folded like a cat. “Wouldn’t want to upset Yuuri again, would you?”

“In my defense, I was dealing with Albanian monsters.” Viktors reminds him, standing up straight and fixing his crooked tie. “How do I make it up to him?” 

“Roses are a good way to go,” Phichit responds, pretending to pluck dust off his pristine white lab coat. “Red might be ideal, it’s a perfect color that just shows how desperate you are." He smirks. "It’s a burden to see so clearly, Agent.” 

“That’s just cliche. Yuuri doesn’t strike me as a man who’s into candlelight dinners and rose petals on beds.” He rolls his eyes. “And I’m not desperate.” 

_Yet._

Phichit snorts loudly. His gloved hand crossed over his face as he hides his smile. “Oh, poor you. Tell me more about Yuuri then if you know him so well then,” he says. Viktor opens his mouth, closing it abruptly. Dammit, he’s right. What does he know about Yuuri Katsuki other than he’s the most beautiful man he’s ever met and spend far to much time with computers than people? He's intelligent, he isn't a pushover, and he's perfected his death glare to a fine art but besides that, what does Viktor know about him? 

He winces as his naivety. Phichit words weren't just a warning; he wasn't worthy of Yuuri. 

“You reek of desperation, Agent.” Phichit tuts. “It’s not a good look for you. You'll get wrinkles if you worry too much.”

Warmth blooms over his face, coating his cheeks a soft shade of rouge when Phichit waggles his eyebrows inappropriately, looking more like a lewd gossiper than a high paid lab technician. 

Viktor feels like a new recruit in Seduction class. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” 

Phichit rolls his eyes in an obvious fashion, pushing off the work table. “ _Sure, Agent._ ” 

He groans loudly, silently admitting defeat. 

“Wait!” Viktor calls him back against his better judgment. He doesn't miss the victorious look in his eyes. “Does he really like red roses?” 

“No, of course not. He finds them terribly boring” 

“Then………. could you tell me what he does like?” He asks only to be met with a judgemental look of raised eyebrows and tight lips. Viktor sighs, he doesn’t want to do this but desperate times call for desperate measures. He knows how to negotiate and it’s not his pride that he’s hurting. “I have Agent Giacometti's number.” He blurts out.

“Why didn’t you just start off with that?!” Phichit claps his hands excitedly, nearly knocking something off one of the tables. 

“It’s yours if you tell what flowers to buy him and I’ll give your Chris’s number," Viktor offers.

“Deal!” He grabs Viktor’s hand, shaking it. “Buy him Lilies, white ones and maybe--just maybe-- he won't chew your head off.” 

"Pleasure doing business with you." 

"Oh no, Agent." Phichit purrs, throwing Viktor a knowing wink. "The pleasure is all mine. Best of luck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, please don't hesitate to leave a comment of kudos. I really want to know how I'm doing so far. I haven't done something like this before and I didn't know if I wanted to continue this or not but I was able to scrounge up some inspiration.  
> Happy trails, you guys.


	3. Oh, My Love, Don't Forsake Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minako had asked him continuously if he was willing to go on with this, knowing that he would have to sacrifice so much just to destroy himself and be born anew, and every time his answer had been a strong and resolute 'yes.' It was worth it, that's what he kept telling himself till the words were engraved into his head.

The first time Yuuri held a gun was when he was only thirteen. 

The Mossberg had been given to him by his Godmother when she pulled him out of bed early in the morning for a 'surprise', the twelve gauge felt impossibly big in his hands. He remembered trembling when Minako shoved it into his hands, she didn't even blink or say anything else; Minako only explained that basics to him and showed him how to hold a gun properly. 

It was snowing the night before leaving everything around him covered in a fine layer of snow. His footsteps were noisy, scaring away any game that dared come near them. If Minako was irritated, she didn't show it. Her beautiful and pale face was impassive, cold and frigid as the snow around them. The change only made ice creep into his heart, he wanted to go back and forget that this was even happening but it was only his respect for Minako and his own curiosity that propelled him forward. 

The targets were filled up jugs of water perched on a fence, they were well outside the confines of Hatsetu. Nobody was there but him and Minako. The jugs weren't that far from him, only a couple of meters or so but it felt like miles to him. He was scared, terrified even. Yuuri never considered himself the type to hold a gun, much less shoot one but he soldiered up, pressing the butt of the shotgun against his shoulder. His breathing was unsteady, in the cool breeze of winter, he could feel sweat dripping down his neck. Minako's gaze settled into his back, he could feel her critical gaze as he adjusted his stance and tightened his grip on the forehand, just under the barrel. In those few seconds, his heartbeat grew louder and louder. Blood was gushing through his veins, roaring past his ears. 

Yuuri couldn't stop thinking. I'm holding an instrument of death in his hands, he repeated in his head. 

Adrenaline was pumping through his system, edging him to squeeze the trigger gently like Minako said. He shaly inhaled, breathing out through his nose. He squeezed the trigger gently, wincing and gritting his teeth at the jerky recoil. His first few shots were abysmal, he missed every single one. The jugs of water remained intact and frozen, silently mocking him. His ears rang and he felt like he had been rattled like a maraca. 

"Good," Minako said. He bit the inside of his cheek, he knew that tone of voice---he was terrible, he fucked up and Minako was less than impressed. He knew he could do better than that. "You can relax now, Yuuri." 

"I want to shoot again," He told her fiercely. He reloaded the gun with his grubby fingers, they still trembled but it wasn't due to fear. Yuuri's system was still flooded with adrenaline. Neither his pulse or his self-depreciation allowed him to be less than perfect, whether it was ballet or this, Yuuri knew that he could never forgive himself for not being the best. He had to be better. "I can do it. I know I can, teach me. _Please._ " 

"You're trembling, we can fix that in time but for now we'll focus on what we can," She placed a hand on his shoulder, adjusting it slightly. "And your stance could use some work." 

Minako started slowly with him like she did with anything, as with any activity he had to learn the first most step before he could allow himself to go further. In figure skating, it was learning how to fall. In ballet, it was learning barre and the position. Accuracy would come later but for now, Yuuri needed to get used the feel of a gun in his hand; how to reload, which part was which, what stance to use, how to manoeuvre---if he wanted to escape the endless cycle of revenge and hate, then he would have to learn how to defend himself. Yuuri knew that the life that he was agreeing to was one where he would undoubtedly be alone. 

Minako had asked him continuously if he was willing to go on with this, knowing that he would have to sacrifice so much just to destroy himself and be born anew, and every time his answer had been a strong and resolute 'yes.' It was worth it, that's what he kept telling himself till the words were engraved into his head. 

Yuuri now had nobody, the remnants of them were ashes in the burning heap of wood and stone that had once been his family home. His Godmother was his only family now, she was the only person who could give him a life that didn't include him being a victim of the streets. He loved Minako, he trusted and respected her well before the incident but he knew that the moment she walked up to him in the hospital room that he would learn to fear her and her knowing eyes. She looked down at his broken and bleeding body with grief as hot fiery tears rolled down her face. _The world is cruel and unjust_ , she told him as she held his hand, _I'm sorry I could not shield you from it_. 

Her price was steep, not in gold or flesh but in expectation and dedication. She became a mother and a mentor, a friend and a foe, a goddess and a she-demon; nothing less and nothing more, just a walking contradiction that shaped Yuuri into the man he was today. He owed more than his life to her, he owed this woman his very soul. 

And he had no intention of letting her down. 

And he didn't. 

(It would be years later that Yuuri would learn that he was perfect for the agency; weak, alone, easily manipulable, and no other family to speak up----in others words, he was the perfect candidate.)

Yuuri gritted his teeth as he squeezed the trigger, emptying his cartridge into the target sheets. He let his anger flow along with the familiar edge of adrenaline that flooded his body, it was easier this way. Yuuri was razor-focused, the familiar record of the gun and the smell of gunsmoke kept him grounded as he struggled to keep his thoughts linear. 

The range was empty tonight. Eerily so and that was how Yuuri liked it, he prospered in the quiet and dark places, it was the only place his mind allowed him any form of peace without the day to day distractions. 

He pulled out his earplugs, placing the gun down with a resounding thud that echoed loudly. Yuuri could feel the sweat on his brow and neck beginning to cool, he shivers wiping off his sweaty palms on his pants. With trembling fingers he slips his glasses off and then his gloves, allowing himself to breathe, inhaling the cool air around him. The past hour had felt like he had been drowning in a rushing river, unable to breathe and fighting the gushing currents of his own mind. He hated nights like these when his mind fought to catch up with his body, sleep would be considered a blessing at this point and no matter how much he hated it, the only thing Yuuri could see was the hairline cracks in his own reflection. Anxiety was one thing, self-doubt another----guilt was the worst of it followed up by the surge of anger that hit him like a wave, years of control prevented Yuuri from spiraling any further. 

The target sheet was practically swiss cheese at this point, most of the holes conjugating around the head and chest area like some misconstrued tattoo. It was practically brutal, butcher like and ruthless. He considered textbook perfect, it lacked motive and any real substance but it was accurate and constructive. Minako would've told him it was perfect but he knew better; shooting in a field and shooting in practice were two very different things. 

"Impressive." A low whistle sounded behind him, he stiffened at the intrusion. He opened his mouth to tell the other to kindly fuck off only to shut it when he turned his head. 

Viktor crept out of the shadows, the buttons of his suit undone and his _somehow_ still perfect underneath the harsh fluorescent glow of the lights. Yuuri noticed the stark shade of red that dyed his collar, it stood in contrast to his bright cerulean eyes and his skin. He didn't know if it was Viktor's or somebody else's but one quick lookover concluded no apparent injuries. It was unfair how he could look so effortlessly elegant while Yuuri stood there sweating like it was the middle of July and in a worn pair of sweats. It was like comparing a bottle of fine champagne to cheap gas station beer. 

Wonderfully hopeless. 

"Agent, Nikiforov," Yuuri greets flatly. 

"Yuuri," The other man sings out his name much to his exasperation, his lips curving into a dazzling smile that wreaks Yuuri's heart in a matter of seconds. He forces himself to look away, thanking the contrasting shadows of his booth for hiding the pink that dusts across his cheeks. 

He sighs, picking up the gun again. "How was your mission, Agent?" 

"Successful as usual," Viktor said from behind him. "I even brought back my gear in one piece like you wanted me to."

Yuuri turned around giving him a look. "All of them? Including the exploding pen?" 

" _Especially_ the exploding pen. A promise is a promise." 

"Impressive," Yuuri mused to himself. "But that still doesn't explain why you're here." 

"You weren't in the lab. I was wondering where you were. Phichit told me you were here. " Viktor explained. "Rough night?"

That was an understatement. Yuuri was dealing with things from both the past and the present, he's tired and exhausted and he knows that there's still work to be done in the lab. He running on fumes at this point and an unhealthy amount of caffeine that leaves him feeling jittery. Yuuri appreciated Viktor's concern (or what he assumed was his concern) but right now he wanted to be left alone and Viktor alone was one big distraction for obvious reasons. 

"No, Agent." He lies swiftly. ('Yes,' he screams internally.) "Just practicing. That's all." 

"Your skills are amazing," Viktor said, only a hair's breath away from Yuuri. The hairs on his neck stand upright at Viktor's close proximity. He can feel the warmth rolling off of his body, a bold contrast to the cold that causes his skin to break out in goosebumps. "But your stance needs a bit work," He said, placing his hand on his hips, adjusting them slightly. Yuuri lets him, feeling like he's burning from the inside out and secretly pleased to protest. Viktor's hands brush against the slip of bare skin between his sweatpants and shirt, lingering there for a few maddening seconds more before pulling away almost reluctantly. "There, much better." 

Yuuri places the gun back down, his muscles tense as an unwound coil. He turns around to face Viktor, the words dying in his throat when his eyes zero in on the vivid splotch of red on his collar that looks like a smudged kiss mark. 

"Agent, I--"

"Why aren't you in the field, Yuuri?" Viktor asks him mournfully. "You're good, astronomically good. You should be out in the field." _With me...._

"I'm more useful here," Yuuri tells him, carefully avoiding looking anywhere near his eyes. Minako had asked him the same thing a long time ago, it was easier, to be honest with the women who raised you than the man you had feelings for. That was just the way it was and in this life, trust was foolish, Yuuri had no choice but to lie. He glanced briefly down at his lips instead, focusing on the words they formed. "I'm aware of my skills, Agent, but not everyone can do what I can do." 

Viktor's features darken, his lips are a straight flat line that looks thin as a knife and his next words are just as sharp. "Was it Lilia?" 

Accusatory.

 _He doesn't know and he should never know the truth_ , Yuuri bites down on his lip until he can taste blood. Yuuri could never be an agent even if he passed every exam and got the personal seal of approval from Madame Lilia herself. It had nothing to do with his skills, it his mind that was the true enemy--what was the use of an agent that doubted himself? He knew deep down in his heart that he could never be like _the_ Viktor Nikiforov, his ideas of becoming an agent ended the moment Yuuri realized he couldn't pull a trigger at anything else other than a target board. 

Minako had taught him to tear himself apart and put himself back together till he was better. So Yuuri did just that, allowing himself to be molded underneath Yakov's care till he replaced him. It had been hard, Yakov was similar to Minako in his expectations and the way he pushed Yuuri but like everything, it was worth it in the end. 

"It.....it was my choice," Yuuri admits to him, tailoring the details to fit his story. "Madame only recruited me but I chose to train under Yakov." 

"Oh." Was he disappointed? Bitter? Resentful? It was hard to tell, his voice was impassive but his eyes told Yuuri too much, emotions were fleeting, lost to the depths. He couldn't pinpoint them. 

"I could never be an Agent," He said, fighting to keep some emotion out of his voice. "I don't just lack the confidence, I lack the right mindset of one."

He doesn't know why he's saying this. It's not as if Viktor would understand but it feels good to let some of this poison go, his chest is still tight and his throat is uncomfortably strained but his mind is just a little at peace.

Viktor tilts his head, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Yuuri doesn't flinch away when he places his hands on his shoulders, the touch is surprisingly heavy and Yuuri can feel the way his fingers curl into his shoulder. "I don't understand," He tells him, there's a hint of desperation in his voice. "What do you mean by that, Yuuri?" 

"That's fine." Yuuri shakes his head gently, ignoring the small traitorous voice in his head when Viktor pulls him closer to his body, their faces are only centimeters apart from each other. "Don't dwell on it too much. It's in the past and I'm more than happy with my role as Quartermaster," He offers him a ghost of a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Yuuri reaches up, brushing away the strands that obstruct his view in a rare moment of weakness. "Besides, Computers are easier to predict than people, I'd rather have someone like you in the field than me any day, Viktor."

"That's not fair."

"Oh Viktor," Yuuri cups his face gently. "Nothing ever is."


	4. The Green Eyed Fiend (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're really considering this?" Phichit had asked him. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his hips as he glanced down at Chris with barely hidden excitement. "You are aware that this isn't some cheesy American 80's romcom, right?" 
> 
> Chris hummed, "You underestimate the power of cheesy 80's films, cherie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be funny but it turned a little serious in the beginning because that's how my brain works. Anywho, this got too long so I decided to split it into two part. This one will be in Chris's POV, and the other one will be Viktor's POV.

There were two things that he was certain of at this moment, one was that Viktor Nikiforov had a crush on The Quartermaster as big as his forehead and two, he and half of the agency were practically going insane watching these two dancing around each other. So like any good friend and ally to his sanity as well as everyone else's, he decided that he would help Viktor in getting his shit together in the best way he knew how. 

"You're really considering this?" Phichit had asked him. He sat up, the sheets pooling around him as he glanced down at Chris with barely hidden excitement. "You are aware that this isn't some cheesy American 80's romcom, right?" 

Chris hummed, "You underestimate the power of cheesy 80's films, my dear." 

"Yuuri's stubborn." 

"And so is Viktor," He pointed out. Chris tugged Phichit back down till he was laying down next to him, they were chest to chest with only the sheets separating them. Phichit smiled at him when his fingers carded through his hair, bright and mischevious, everything that Chris didn't know that he wanted until now. "Sometimes you need a push in the right direction. I certainly don't mind being the one that pushes Viktor's stubborn ass."

"Viktor just needs to get his act together and Yuuri needs to stop running away. They make an interesting couple, don't they?" Phichit chuckles to himself, his laughter silent and incredulous. "But I suppose I can understand why Yuuri is so skittish, Viktor _is_ a bit of a heartbreaker after all (and yes, I know that's just for work.) He's afraid of allowing himself to hope, he always has been. When it comes to his problems, Yuuri always defaults to handling them head on but with Viktor......I don't know, it's as if he likes having him there by his side even if he frustrates him. Maybe Viktor is kinda like a valuable painting, you can look at it and you can admire it but you can't touch it or keep it. I can't really explain Yuuri's mind and I've known him for almost a decade." He turns his head, staring at the ceiling mournfully, His eyes are soft, vulnerable. Chris is tempted to kiss him again. "I know that spies like you and Viktor aren't expected to live long. Don't get me wrong about that fact, it's an occupational hazard and you guys do save the world....... but I think it makes it all the worthwhile to have you while I still can."

Chris makes a sound in the back of his throat, his lips twisting into a pout. He props himself up, leaning most of his weight on his forearm. Those words were true but just because they were uttered from Phichit lips didn't make them any less terrifying. 

"You make it sound if I'm going to die on my next mission, cherie." Chris teases, swallowing his fear down. He allows himself to smile. This night was far too nice for thoughts of death to ruin. "I thought you had more confidence in me? I may not be _the_ Viktor Nikiforov but I have been told that I'm a capable agent." 

"I know that." Phichit didn't take the bait. "But if you do?" He asks, completely serious as he looks up at Chris. 

"Then I'll make sure to make love to you thoroughly before I leave so I can die with no regrets," Chris answers, without hesitation. 

His eyes narrow, glittering almost dangerously. "Be serious, Chris." 

"I am," Chris said, leaning down to kiss the scowl off Phichit's face. He feels it melt away underneath his lips. It was a sweet, chaste peck that was by far the most innocent compared to all of the other kisses they've shared tonight. 

" _Oh._ " Phichit uttered when Chris pulls away. 

"Hmmm. Maybe Yuuri isn't the only one that needs to learn to communicate better," Chris purrs at the red creeping into Phichit's cheeks. He was promptly met with a pillow to the face. " _Mmmf! Phichit!_ " 

"Don't you dare." 

Chris laughs once he was able to get Phichit off of him, he leans against the headboard and picks several dowy feathers out of his hair, his hair is already messy as it is from their previous activities. There's no point in trying to fix it. Phichit helps him, showing no remorse for hitting him with a pillow. "What friends we have. They seem to be everywhere, even in the bedroom." 

Phichot rolls his eyes, placing another feather into the small pile he had gathered. "Yes, what _friends._ " 

"Maybe they'll thank us for intervening or be nice enough to invite us to their wedding," He jokes. "You could always help.......more the merrier, right?" 

"Yuuri would kill me," Phichit snorted. Chris can see the cogs turning in his head as he considers his words. "But it would help him. I know that I don't have the right but I'd rather see him happy than wallowing in self-pity for the rest of his life. God only knows how much he deserves some happiness......." 

"Is that a yes? I hear a yes." 

"It's funny, don't you think?" Phichit sighs. It's a sigh of resignation, almost disbelieving. "Us plotting? It feels......odd." 

"Odd?" Chris raises his eyebrow playfully. "Good odd? Bad odd?" 

"Just odd." He bites his lips, unaware of how Chris lowered his gaze to his lips heatedly. "Do you really think it will work? I feel like a vindictive ex-girlfriend from a bad high school movie." 

"Cherie," Chris tells Phichit with a glimmer of mirth in his eyes, as he lifts his hand to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to the back of his hand, "Just you wait. When we're done, they'll either thank us or kill us." 


	5. The Green Eyed Fiend (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Chris?” Viktor huffs, unamused by his nonchalant attitude. “Can you just tell me where Yuuri is? I need to see him. It's important.”
> 
> “Oh, why didn't you just say so,” He said. Clearly, he was having far too much fun with this. “He’s on a _date._ ”

Another successful mission and no immediate casualties, just another day at the office.

Most would consider that lucky but Viktor knew that was nothing more than pure skill and confidence. (Along with some expert intel and logistics.)

The moment he had returned back to HQ, Viktor could feel something in him just deflate.

He felt drained, weary and despondent. His joints were stiff and his eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his sockets; his eyelids were about to drop and the bruises he had sustained didn't want to cooperate. Viktor hadn't felt this terrible in a long time, it was like there an invisible weight wrapped around his shoulders, weighing him down like an anchor. Maybe it was a product of his age or it was just plain exhaustion. Maybe the years were finally catching up to him; after all, he had been doing this job for almost all of his life. Or maybe Viktor was spent, but one instance of fatigue didn't mean anything too serious. 

But still, he wondered. 

He could sleep it off once he got back to his apartment and wait for his next mission. 

The only thing that could cure him now was seeing Yuuri.

Honestly, this was his favorite part of coming back from a mission. Not the glory, or the clear admiration and jealousy in his colleague's eyes, it was the simple fact that by the end of everything; through the near and constant brush with death, he would always find himself returning to Yuuri. Seeing his face made him want to live, breathing in the familiar scent of spice; Viktor could think of nothing else that compared to the way Yuuri wrapped his arms around him after a particularly grueling mission. Sometimes, Viktor thought the best way to die was with Yuuri embracing him, he considered it to be a perfect death. He would happily die in those arms while gazing up into Yuuri’s dark and alluring eyes.

The Quartermaster had accused him on a number of occasions of purposely sabotaging his own equipment. Out of all the agents, Viktor had visited him the most after a mission with broken or missing gear. It wasn't the best seduction tactic but at least Viktor was able to see Yuuri even if it was in the most unconventional way.

Viktor wasn't sure Yuuri was oblivious or cruel, maybe a devastating mix of both.

Did he really not see how Viktor looked at him with clear adoration in his eyes, or how he clung to him afraid to let go? Yuuri _had_ to know that Viktor had feelings for him. He was certain that Yuuri had feelings for him too. Viktor had been nothing but clear with his intentions, he had been honest and kind and patient but he was only just a man----a very stupid man who had fallen in love with someone who was emotionally unavailable and who made his heart beat painfully in his chest with every move.

Oh god, Phichit was right. Viktor was desperate. (And Pathetic.)

"Agent Nikiforov back from another successful mission," Someone drawled. Their voice echoed through the hallway. "Off to see the Quartermaster are you?"

"Chris," Viktor greeted, he didn't have the energy or patience to conjure up a smile for his friend. He continued to walk, Chris following right behind him with a classic shit-eating grin on his face that Viktor associated with trouble.

Chris chuckles, the smirk quickly giving way to something fond and teasing. "So grumpy.”

“Forgive me for not being cheerier,” Viktor mumbles softly.

“Are those for Yuuri?” Chris asks, gesturing to the bouquet of white lilies hidden behind Viktor's back. The plastic wrap crinkles loudly, betraying its presence. “I never thought I’d see the day where the great Viktor Nikiforov would buy flowers for somebody.”

Viktor ignored his previous question. “Is he still in the lab?”

“Sadly not,” Chris replied.

“The canteen?”

“No.”

“Chris?” Viktor huffs, unamused by his nonchalant attitude. “Can you just tell me where Yuuri is? I need to see him. It's important.”

“Oh, why didn't you just say so,” He said. Clearly, he was having far too much fun with this. “He’s on a _date._ ”

Viktor stops abruptly, whipping his head to look at Chris. The stems of the lilies dig into his palms mockingly, the sweet scent sours as he processes his words. 

“A date?" He echoes in a hollow and disjointed tone. 

“Yes,” Chris intones, amused. “A social or romantic appointment or engagement? A meeting between two individuals who like each other? A rendezvous between lovers? I can keep going if you would like but I think you get the gist.”

Viktor doesn’t mean to growl but he does anyway. “ _Who?_ ”

Chris's answer surprises him. “Phichit.”

“What?”

“I know, I was surprised too.”

“But I thought----” Viktor splutters, mouth agape. He had no idea why Chris was so calm. “I thought Choulanat was dating you? I….i have him your _number!_ ”

“I was flattered but,” he shrugged, clearly unaffected by the words coming out of his mouth. If Chris was hurt by Phichit then he showed no signs of it, Viktor, on the other hand, looked like his world had fallen apart in a matter of seconds. At least Chris had the courtesy to spare Viktor a pitying look before moving on. “It simply wasn’t meant to be.”

The lilies felt heavy in his hand. He didn't even notice his grip tighten around the stems, there was a feeling of deep disappointment that wormed it's way into his chest and stayed there. It was aimed mostly at himself for being such a fool for waiting this long. 

Just his luck. Of all days, it had to be today.

“I see.” Is all Viktor could say before following behind Chris wordlessly. 

"Viktor!" Chris jogged to catch up with his friend who was heading in the opposite direction of the labs. He missed the brief flash of concern that flashed on Chris's face in his haste. "Shouldn't you---"

"I need a drink." 

 

 

If anybody asked Viktor if he was okay, he would lie and say he was fine (in a very bitter tone) but in reality, he was brimming with envious resentment as he watched Yuuri and Phichit work. They were practically touching as they reviewed over some gadget Viktor could hardly give a damn about.

(He had spent all night lamenting over losing Yuuri while drinking some cheap vodka he had purchased from the gas station. Nobody knew that Viktor had cried other than Makkachin and the sofa he had spent the night on.) 

He grits his teeth, glaring holes into Phichit's back.

Phichit fucking Chulanont had stabbed him in the back. He had Viktor pretty convinced that he was helping him, and then goes off and dates Yuuri behind his back. Oh, how much he wanted to wring his skinny little neck.

The young man was lucky that Viktor wasn’t allowed to harm civilians, he would've been a dead man walking.

Yuuri didn’t seem to mind the casual touches or the way that Phichit dipped his head to talk to him. (Did they really need to stand so close to each other?!) He hardly flinched when Phichit threw his arms around his shoulders, whispering something into his ear that made Yuuri turn red. Yuuri’s face erupted softly into a red tinge that spread from his ears, across the bridge of his nose, bleeding into his cheeks before disappearing below his collar.

He had been a fool.

Viktor looked and felt like shit. No doubt everyone was staring at him, his hair was a fucking mess and his eyes were tinged red due to the lack of sleep and crying.

Pathetic, indeed.

“If you stare longer, I’m afraid he might spontaneously combust,” Chris slid into his view, an unperturbed smile on his face. At least somebody other than god was having some fun. “It’s kinda your fault, you know.”

Oh, he knows.

“You waited too long.”

He fucking knows.

“Chris,” Viktor sighs, sinking further into his chair. “Please don’t. Let me suffer here in peace.”

“Tell me, Viktor.” Chris purrs, following Viktors gaze. He hardly cares about whatever information Chris was trying to pry out of him. At this point he'd hand over national secrets if it meant Phichit was on the other side of the room far, far, _far away from Yuuri. _No doubt that Katsuki has something to do with it_ , she thought dryly._

__

There were only two ways to soothe whatever tempest raged in Viktor Nikiforov’s soul: retirement…...or another mission.

__

“I know why you’re here, Agent,” Lilia said. She folded her hands atop of her desk, her manicured nails rhythmical tapping the desk. It was times like these where she almost wished that her ex-husband was still here with her.

__

_Almost._

__

“Then you know what I want,” Viktor said, straightening his back. His voice held no friendliness, only hardened resolve. “Yuuri Katsuki has nothing to do with my decision.”

__

“You’ve just come back from a mission. There’s no use sending you back in. Go back home and relax while you can, Agent.”

__

“No.”

__

“No?” Lilia pursed her lips. “Are you defying a direct order from your superior, Agent?”

__

Viktor’s eyes widened, the carefully constructed mask crumbled for only a mere second before he regained his composure. Lilia knew this man since he was a boy, she had helped to shape him into the perfect agent but even she knew that toll it had taken on him. Shame was a human emotion, she saw no fault in it.

__

Normally, she wouldn’t hesitate to tear Viktor a new one for daring to speak to her in such a way but one look into his eyes allowed to keep her ire at bay for the time being. 

__

She had enough practice dealing with lovesick idiots. (Yakov should know, he was one of them.)

__

“I need a distraction,” He finally admitted under her scrutinizing gaze. “I will take any mission, Madame. Just......Please."

__

Lilia rolled her eyes. They were an elite organization with the finest agents in the world, not a typical American high school full of hormonal teenagers. It didn't help matter that there had been a betting pool taking place in HQ on who would ask the other out, she had looked to other way but not without throwing some money in. (Her money had been on Viktor.)

__

Yuuri Katsuki was the finest that the academy had produced and under Yakov’s careful guidance he had blossomed, it would only be natural that he would catch Viktor Nikiforov eyes. The Spy and the Quartermaster, now that brought back memories.

__

If only they would sort out their long and tedious courtship, that would be nice.

__

“Vitya,” She huffed quietly, hardly moving an inch as she gauged his reaction. Her words as cold and unforgiving as her heart. “You are a fool.”

__

He snapped his head up, eyes bulging. “Madame---!”

__

“What you need to do is talk to the Quartermaster and put all of us out of our misery!” Lilia admonished, watching as Viktor jumped at her shape tone. Good, let him understand that she didn’t like wasting her time over trivial matters such as these. “You are not some moody little teenager who is scared to ask someone to the prom! You are an international elite agent who has faced far worse than unrequited love. You are considered the best that this organization has ever produced. _Act like it!_ ”

__

This was getting ridiculous.

__

Viktor Nikiforov had failed to show up to his lab yet again.

__

He glanced down at his watch, glaring at the poor device as the hands move at a snail's pace. They were supposed to meet at one thirty and it was nearly nine o’clock at night. His patience was trickling down with each minute that passed, growing closer and closer to annoyance. This was the third time in three days where Yuuri had stayed behind waiting for Viktor barge through his doors and collect his bloody watch. 

__

“Where is he?” Yuuri asked himself. His voice echoed through the lab, only the light humming of his laptop answered him instead.

__

Yuuri didn't like how his chest constricted or how his mind raced, he hated how bitter his mouth tasted as he paced the floors of his lab glancing occasionally up at the clock on the far wall. He was anxious today, high strung and tense. Every moment without Viktor nearby was like a void had suddenly opened up, he could only feel a great feeling of emptiness settle around him.

__

He loathed it!

__

Yuuri hated how he missed the sound of his voice or his corny jokes or how Viktor held his hand. He _definitely_ despised how Viktor would try to flirt with him when he was working, or his soft blush whenever Yuuri looked at him. And let's not talk about the way how nice his cologne smelled, especially mixed in with the familiar scent of gunsmoke-----

__

He groaned loudly, cutting off his own thoughts and sinking into his chair further. 

__

Chris was right, Yuuri really is a fool who can't keep his heart in his chest.

__

He felt like a jilted lover as he pushed back his hair in frustration. Whatever Viktor was doing, it had better be good because Yuuri hated to be stood up.

__

He didn't wait for anybody, not even Viktor Nikiforov but his heart didn't seem to get the memo. It wanted something Yuuri couldn't have, something he couldn't attain. Yuuri grabbed the small silver case that held Viktor’s watch; inspecting it sullenly, he had spent a good portion of the day fixing the damaged interface. The glass had been shattered beyond repair, the tracker was all but destroyed and he replaced it (although it took him a while to make it from scratch because they didn't have the parts.)

__

Working on the watch had been a good way to relive some the stress and anxiety that had built up in him. Even if it was Viktor's, even if it had been broken over and over and over; Yuuri found some comfort in the tiny gears as he meticulously put it back together.

__

It only hurt to know that Viktor would break it like the older man did everything else.

__

Yuuri didn't want to part with the watch just yet. He wanted to keep it for just a while longer. 

__

The hallways were stagnant at this time, only a few people littered the hallways as he made his way to the shooting gallery. It was Viktor’s refuge for both of them, they had spent many evenings there until the smell of gunsmoke and sweat permeated their clothes. Those nights were usually wordless, only lingering looks that lasted for far too long to be appropriate. Yuuri felt trapped in his own mind in those moments, his heart screaming over his mind and his finger eager to touch Viktor.

__

Yuuri had enough self-restraint for the both of them luckily.

__

The shooting range was eerily silent today, no sight of Viktor Nikiforov at this time. Gunsmoke lingered in the air, shells littered the ground on the booths, and air con tumbled above him. Yuuri had seen enough horror movies to know exactly how this was going to go. 

__

He stood there for a few seconds, contemplating his thoughts as he lightly kicked a random shell on the ground. Yuuri watched it skitter away, shattering the silence before bouncing off a wall. The sounds of loud footsteps are heard, growing louder and louder. Yuuri hardly acknowledges them until he hears the doors bang open and the sound of someone panting as if they had just run a marathon.

__

“Yuuri!”

__

For once in his life, Yuuri wondered what it would be like to actually be lucky.

__

He straightens his shoulders and took a deep breath in before exhaling slowly. Just like Minako taught him all those years ago: always keep calm and if that doesn't work, go for the throat.

__

“Agent Nikiforov, I’ve been waiting for you for hours----” He said, turning around till he stood face to face with Viktor and stopped. Yuuri took in his appearance, unkempt and wan. He was sullen, like a washed out shirt set out to dry. But his face was flushed red with exertion, a bright red highlight painting his cheeks as Viktor swept his hair out of his eyes. That red highlight did terrible things to Yuuri's heart, he could feel it leap in his chest as if it were trying to touch the stars. There was something stirring in Yuuri’s chest, it made his blood run cold and then freeze in his veins; Yuuri realized that he felt dread, unable to understand why his eyes looked so pale. He didn’t know what Viktor was going through and he didn't have the right to inquire, but whatever pain had been inflicted upon him, Yuuri would’ve done anything to soothe it away. He felt himself shiver, the air suddenly turns hot. 

__

“Viktor?”

__

He could only wait with bated breath as he was uncertain of what he was supposed to say, the words turned to ash on his tongue and his throat was unusually tight. 

__

“Hi,” He greets him simply. Even as Viktor smiled, it touched his eyes for once. “I need to talk to you.”

__

Yuuri blinked. “Okay?”

__

“I’m leaving for a mission,” Viktor blurted out. “Tonight.”

__

“Oh,” Yuuri said. “For how long---?”

__

“Three months,” He answered quickly.

__

“ _I see._ ”

__

(He's not sure why he felt disappointed at the moments but then again, what had Yuuri been expecting exactly?)

__

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about it,” Viktor clarified. "Madame swore me to secrecy."

__

Yuuri shook his head, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting. He smiled lightly, his lips straining to hold that smile as he reached into his pocket.

__

“Don't worry about it. If you’re heading off on a mission, you’ll need this,” Yuuri waved it off and pulled out the watch, holding it out in front of him. Viktor only glanced down at his palm as if Yuuri had offered him his heart, but he made no move to take it. The cool metal felt strangely cool in his hand the longer he held onto it. “Agent Nikiforov?”

__

“You fixed my watch,” Viktor stated. He looked up from Yuuri’s hand, his eyes a little more bright. “I thought that it was beyond repair?”

__

He shrugged. “I am the Quartermaster, after all. It’s kinda my job,” Yuuri said. “Viktor?”

__

“Yes, Yuuri?”

__

“You said that you wanted to discuss something with me?”

__

Viktor bit down on his lip, his eyes flickering nervously between Yuuri and the watch as if he were purposely deliberating. Yuuri tensed up, his muscles locking into place as he waited patiently for Viktor's words. “I wanted to ask about you and Phichit.”

__

“Phichit?” Yuuri echoed uselessly. The words bounced around his skull, confusing him further. All he could come up with was that Phichit had done something either incredibly stupid or he had finally hacked into Apple like he planned to. “What about him?”

__

“Is it true that you’re dating?”

__

“Dating?!” He spluttered, heat rushing to his cheeks. Yuuri nearly dropped the watch on the floor, it didn’t help that Viktor was keenly watching his reaction. Yuuri was not prepared for that at _all._ “Who said—-what?! Viktor!”

__

“It’s true then, isn’t it?”

__

“No!” Yuuri shook his head, his glasses sliding down his nose further. 

__

Viktor snapped his head up, mouth agape. He looked as confused as Yuuri.

__

God, he wanted lightning to strike him down.

__

Why?

__

Why did he always find himself in these awkward situations?

__

“Phichit is my friend!” Yuuri squawked, his gaze wavered as he was uncertain where to look. He settled for the corner of Viktors right eye. “He’s interested in Chris, not me. Who even told you that?! We’re not——-!”

__

" I think I do." Viktors face fell, and then it turned red and his expression morphed of one of fury.

__

"Who?" 

__

“Chris,” he muttered darkly. “I’m going to kill him.”

__

Yuuri had no idea what was going on. (He was the Quartermaster! It was his job to know exactly what was going on! Clearly, he wasn't doing his job properly.)

__

“Well,” Yuuri recovered from his shock. He took Viktors hand and planed the watch into his palm before closing his fingers around it, (Briefly, he found it fascinating how warm Viktors hands we in his. He pulled his hands away quickly before Viktor could comment.) “At least take this before you kill Agent Giacometti.”

__

“Thank you,” Viktor said in a breathy tone as if Yuuri had robbed the air from his lungs. His eyes which were as hard a steel just a minute ago melted into something softer, Viktor's gaze softened as his thumb swiped across the glassy smooth surface of the watch dial. “I promise I’ll try not to break it this time. It's a shame to let such beautiful work go to waste.”

__

Yuuri snorted. “Liar.”

__

“We’ll talk more about this later, Yuuri. Properly this time.” Viktor pocked the watch, and then his fingers tilted Yuuri's face up. “I promise.” He leaned forward and Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed at the same time as he waited with his breath held …..only to feel the faintest of pressure against his forehead. It was a light thing that felt barely there, like snow dusting across your cheeks. “I’ll see you in three weeks, darling. Please wait for me.”

__

When he opened his eyes again, Viktor was gone leaving nothing behind but the scent of his cologne and gunsmoke. It was as if he hadn't;t even been there leaving Yuuri to wonder if this had been a dream. 

__

“See you soon…... _Viktor._ ” He whispered.

__


	6. Kiss With a Fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri kicked off his shoes, placing them neatly next to Viktor’s own combat boots. He loosened the hideous blue tie, slipping it off and draping it over his shoes before undoing the top button of his shirt. Viktor’s eyes fell immediately to the strip of skin, pale and unmarred. It was a dirty move, and if Viktor wasn't careful, he’d fall for whatever trap the Quartermaster laid out for him. 
> 
> “ _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor smiled, blowing him a kiss. “I’m not going to go easy on you, darling. It’s just the way I show my love.” 
> 
> Yuuri gave him smile that had his heart racing. “Viktor,” He greeted. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronology? I don't know her.  
> Fight scenes are so hard to write for, this took years off my life but I hope it came out okay.  
> Enjoy~

"Cadet Omiki, you have failed your weapon to hand combat trial, three to none." Lilia's voice called out, crisp and clear, cutting into the shadowed corners of the training room. Viktor saw the young mans eyes widen in panic. "Abysmal, I'm certain the salmon I had last night for dinner could strike harder than that. I expect better than this. _Next!_ " 

Viktor stood up, rolling his neck as the young student sulked off of the mats and to the slowly forming group of cadets who had gathered at the edge. All of them stood straight with their eyes facing forward, their bodies yet to be conditioned to the harsh reality of the exam and to the disappointed tone in Lilia's voice. 

He had been one of them once, wide eyes and terrified, excitement running through his veins as it mixed with fear. 

It was morbid thought but he wondered how many of these young recruits would survive. How many of them would perish in the academy? How many would die in the field? How many would cave into their minds? Viktor had been through everything, he remembered the hardships he had to face when he was in the academy. Those days had been focused mainly on survival, there was no planning for tomorrow because Viktor had no idea if he would make it to tomorrow. Looking at these faces made him feel sick at the thought, he forced it out of his mind as he reminded himself again and again: only the strong survive in this world, the weak perish, and the foolish can't be trusted. 

Tensions were high in here, he could feel the anxiety rolling off the cadets shoulders in waves. Those who passed would be trained out of it. It was normal to be uneasy on a day such as this but today it was Lilia who presided over the trials. Viktor had been called in when one of the professors called in sick, his years of experience made him perfect for assisting Lilia in assessing the young recruits. 

Viktor could feel them staring at him, their eyes bore into him. He was after all, the Viktor Nikiforov, the best agent that this academy had ever produced. He had the highest record of successfully completed mission than any other agent. To them, Viktor was a god, something inhumane that was to be reveled at. It was nothing new as Viktor was used to being gawked at by the younger cadets, he kept his face an emotional mask as he clung on to some semblance of professionalism. 

It wasn't hard to imagine that Yuuri may have been one of these cadets. He couldn't help but wonder if Yuuri had known of Viktor at that point or was he too bust of focusing on staying alive too? 

Who knew?

Viktor didn't.

Yuuri could've been easily been moved to the science division of the academy, he could've failed at combat or he could've barely passed before Yakov picked him up. Viktor didn't know much about Yuuri's time in the Academy and everyone else who did kept extremely tightlipped. He could only wonder what Yuuri had been like with fear and panic clawing up his throat as he stared down the instructor, palms sweaty, and heart racing. 

Yuuri must have been something or nothing, and Viktor was ashamed to say he didn't know. 

He took a quick swig of water as he eyed the next candidate. It was a young boy, barely out of high school with honey colored eyes and blond hair with a ridiculous red streak. Viktor liked the look of determination in his eyes as he picked up a small knife as his weapon, sleek and easily concealed. It was a good choice but it was also too safe. Viktor hoped that his mind was as sharp as his mind. He nodded his head at him, watching in silent amusement as he glared at him. 

Another greenhorn thinking they were about to knock the living legend down a peg. 

Oh, Viktor wanted this day to be over. 

He just wanted to see Yuuri. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently so.

"Cadet Minami!" Lilia read off the next name. "You will be assessed today on both combat and weapon training. You're scoring will be based on a three-point system: one hit or more and you pass, none and you fail. The match will be over once someone had achieved three hits. Understood Cadet?"

He nodded, approaching the center of the mat. "Yes, Madame."

Viktor picked up his staff, twirling it as he stood face to face. His eyes narrowed but underneath all that determination and fire was a sliver of fear and awe. He could see it clear as day; in his stance and in the way he held the knife, the calloused finger were tight around the handle. This person wasn't trained, they were born to fear death which only made their hunger for life all the more threatening. It was these type of people who persevered, who craved every breath that passed through their lungs. Just as it passed through his. 

_Only the strong survive in this world, the weak perish, and the foolish can't be trusted._

It wasn't just a saying, It was a silent agreement. 

"Begin!" 

The young man was fast, his reflexes were good and he had an abundant amount of focus. His knife slashed between them, a silver streak nearly nicking his throat. He jumped back, preparing himself for the next blow that eventually came. Viktor slammed the staff against the blade of the knife until it lodged there and twisted as it went flying out of his grasp. His shock provided ample opportunity for Viktor to sweep his legs out underneath him. 

His body hit the mat with an audible _thump_ , his eyes were wide open when Viktor tapped his forehead with the end of his staff. The red streak looked more and more like blood.

"One to zero," he said, backing away and readjusting his stance. "Focus, Cadet." 

He growled, grabbing his knife and got back on the map. Viktor could see how flustered he was, it wasn't every day you took on Viktor Nikiforov and lost. Viktor admired his will, it was strong as iron but he was too desperate with his attacks, opting to land a blow anyway possible instead of thinking about how to land a blow. It was classic street fighting, sloppy and unpolished. Viktor knew it had taken years for him to refine his own fighting style. Even now, he still fell back on old trick if he had to. This wasn't about stabbing your opponent or disarming them, this was a mind game and your life was on the line. Every mistake could be held against you, or if you were foolish enough, it could cost you your life. 

"Well done!" 

Viktor made the first move, lighting fast before he could move. He pushed his staff against his sternum and drove her off balance. His arms flailed and he grabbed his forearm, twisting it and flipping him over his shoulder. He groaned, rolling onto his side as the knife lay next to him. Through the stands of hair, he could see the fury and resentment that burned in his eyes, all-consuming.

Viktor quelled whatever sympathy he felt, it wasn't time for that right now. 

"Two to zero, Cadet." Viktor spun his staff, hooking it behind his neck. He may have been a bit arrogant but a little reverse psychology never hurt anybody. "I know that you can do better than this. Focus, or else you know what happens." 

The young man growled and stood up, knife already in hand. He didn't even wait for Lilia, it was immediately an endless barrage of attacks that Viktor deflected easily. He could see the desperation that clung to his every breath and the thought swipe of his blade. He wanted to land just one hit on him, just one and he'll make it. 

Viktor jabbed, aim for his shoulder but he ducked and tried to land a blow to his stomach. He jumped back with ease, the blade nearly slicing into the material of his shirt. 

His muscles were coiled tight as they stood at opposite ends of the mat. 

The cadets who were eagerly watching the match suddenly had their attention drawn away, silent whispers grew till he could hear them clear as day. Even the Cadet who wanted to cut into him looked past him, his eyes widening in disbelief making him look like a little boy instead of a killer. Viktor didn't know who was behind him but he thanked them for the opportunity. 

"Sorry, I'm late." A familiar voice said behind him. 

Viktor knew that voice anywhere and while his focus slipped, the cadet took it as an occasion to charge while Viktor was distracted. 

He could hear the sound of feet slapping against the surface of the mats but it was too late to put up a defense, Minami drove his knife past Viktor's staff in an unprecedented move and pressed the cold blade against the column of his throat. 

Smart. 

"One to Two," Minami panted, drawing the blade away. "Maybe you should focus as well?"

Viktor should've been offended by that but instead, he smiled, admitting defeat before the returned to the center of the mat. The final blow was quick as Viktor had something else to focus on other than training new cadets, the blunted end of the staff stopped only centimeters away from Minami's nose. He chuckled as his eyes went crossed. 

"Well done, Cadet," Viktor began to say, "That was well done and---"

Minami brushed past Viktor. 

Whispers went up, louder this time. Viktor stood there, his arm still outstretched. He turned around, the familiar weight of his staff resting against his side as he observed the way Minami bowed before looking at Yuuri. It was like watching a puppy getting all excited when its owner came back from work, Viktor could see the exact moment that this boy turned into a total fanboy and he was utterly gobsmacked by it. 

"It's an honor to meet you, Quartermaster!" Minami explained, his eyes aglow. Yuuri peered past him at Viktor who only shrugged. He was just as lost as he was. "I--I've been following your career ever since I first entered the academy and---"

Viktor tunes out, focusing on the way Yuuri turns redder and redder. He can only watch, oddly transfixed by the way Yuuri smiles politely. 

The spotlights slowly shifts away from him and he had no qualms about it, Lilia looks only faintly amused by the whole ordeal. Yuuri Katsuki was considered a star in the agency, quickly becoming a Quartermaster and vastly improving upon what Yakov had left behind. It was no wonder that the younger cadets looked up to him. 

"Is it true you undefeated during combat training?" Minami asked, stuttering over his words. “Sixty seven wins in total, right?!” 

"Well, you see,” Yuuri started to say sheepishly, “I---”

Minami seemed not to have an off button, Viktor could only watch as he buzzed with excitement. He really was like a puppy. "Do you still hold the record for most wins?" 

(Yuuri did what? Why did Viktor know about this just _now_?!)

"I don't know about that but---"

"Could you beat Viktor Nikiforov!?" 

Silence.

Yuuri had no answer for that. The silence grew in the training room as everyone weighed in on the answer, Viktor as well. Lilia rolled her eyes, clearly thankful for the small break. 

He looked at Viktor, and bit his lip. 

"Maybe," Yuuri said gently. "I've never tried." 

The cadet practically inflated, whipping his head back and forth between them. The other cadets figured out what would happen next, the anxiety that Viktor had felt earlier melted away into bloodlust, they wanted to see the best of the best square off against each other. Viktor was willing to give them what they wanted. 

What about Yuuri?

Viktor planted the staff on the ground, leaning most of his weight against it. He shot Yuuri a smirk, "Aren't you curious to find out, _Quartermaster_? I am." 

Yuuri looked towards Lilia, silently asking permission. She glanced down at him briefly, they were having a conversation between them that none was privy to, Viktor could only guess what she was thinking and Yuuri’s face as almost impossible to read as his own. He could fathom a guess. The last thing she wanted right now was for her two of her brightest to be in a match against each other. He could understand why but this was Viktor's chance to finally know how Yuuri ticked, how he moved and how he fought. The man had been trained, he knew that much but he didn't know until now to what expect. Having the highest record for most wins in hand to hand combat trials was no laughing matter. 

Viktor scoffed. "C’mon, Lilia." A gasp went up through the cadets, he ignored it as Lilia narrowed her eyes. “A little competition won’t hurt anybody.”

Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Stick to evaluating the Cadets, Agent. This isn’t a dojo in the tristate area.” 

“I certainly don't mind, Madame.” Yuuri said, his gaze settled directly on Viktor. Good, he had his attention now. Viktor was dying to know what Yuuri Katsuki was made of, he could see those cognac-colored eyes harden, a fire in his eyes that made the hair of his neck stand up. It was like facing down a predator, taunting it in order to make the first move. 

“I invited you here for your opinion, Quartermaster.” Lilia said, “This is about the Cadets, not Viktor’s ego.” 

“What’s the matter, Madame?” Viktor asked, he lifted his staff and pointed it at Yuuri. "Don't think your darling Quartermaster can win against me? Too scared he’ll lose to me?" 

Viktor could see her carefully crafted composure bleed from her eyes, her body remained still but her nostrils flared. He could see Yuuri flinch at his words, hands forming into fists. “Katsuki,” Lilia said. 

“Madame?” 

“ _Go._ ” 

“Yes, Madame.” 

“Excellent!” Viktor exclaimed, turning his back on Yuuri to face the group of Cadets. Minami looked starstruck when Viktor dared to wink at the poor boy. “You boys and girls are in for a treat today.” 

Yuuri approached the table and broke eye contact with Viktor, each and every type of weapon was draped across the cheap red tablecloth. His hand hovered over a staff with steel-tipped ends. Unlike the one Viktor had, this one was shorter in length, more practical for close quarters combat. 

Viktor stood in the center waiting for Yuuri. 

Yuuri kicked off his shoes, placing them neatly next to Viktor’s own combat boots. He loosened the hideous blue tie, slipping it off and draping it over his shoes before undoing the top button of his shirt. Viktor’s eyes fell immediately to the strip of skin, pale and unmarred. It was a dirty move, and if Viktor wasn't careful, he’d fall for whatever trap the Quartermaster laid out for him. 

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Viktor smiled, blowing him a kiss. “I’m not going to go easy on you, darling. It’s just the way I show my love.” 

Yuuri gave him smile that had his heart racing. “Viktor,” He greeted. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“You gentlemen are familiar with the rules and I hope that the both of you will set a good example for the Cadets,” Lilia said with an authoritative and bored tone. She looked neither happy or amused, only exasperated. Nobody blamed her. “I expect a clean match, keep it PG-13. I don’t want to clean blood off these mats. Understood?”

“Perfectly, Madame.”

“Crystal.” 

“Good. Begin.” 

They took their stances; Viktor slid his hands down to the end of the staff holding it as if it was a sword. Yuuri took a different approach, bracing himself and keeping his staff parallel his his other arm behind them. Yuuri was focused, he only had eyes for Viktor as they inched closer and closer to each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. 

It was a tentative few seconds before Yuuri made the first move. 

He swung the staff the silver tips like comets as it came dangerously close, aiming to land a blow on Viktor’s torso. Viktor heard the sound of wood as he lifted his staff up in time and deflected the blow. Viktor gritted his teeth as Yuuri went immediatly on the offensive, landing blow after blow as if he were testing Viktor’s defenses. It was a good tactic but Viktor wasn't interested in foreplay at the moment. 

Viktor blocked Yuuri’s next sweep, pushing as hard as he could before pushing him back. He kicked high, but Yuuri recovered quick, dancing around Viktor’s outstretched leg and jabbed the steeled end against the side of his neck. The metal was cold, it barely touched his skin but he could feel goosebumps. 

Yuuri was good, and incredibly so. Viktor never seen someone who moved in such a way. He didn't move like a street fighter, sloppy and ill witted; he moved like a _dancer_ with grace and balance that came with years upon years of discipline and practice. It was the definition of textbook perfection. It was captivating to see him move, the pure aggressiveness he had displayed was something that was all him, hidden away underneath blue framed glasses and innocent looking brown eyes. Viktor knew he was screwed from the very moment he met Yuuri.

The whole room had eyes on them but Viktor could only see Yuuri. 

He could never look away.

Ever.

“One to none,” Yuuri disentangled himself, his hand lingering on his shoulder before drawing away. Viktor felt as if his skin was burning underneath the thin white tee shirt. Damn Yuuri, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. The smug smile on Yuuri’s face said it all. “I’m sorry, but what were you saying earlier, Nikiforov?” 

Viktor grabbed his shoulder without warning, hooking his staff under his arm and flipped him over his shoulder. He kicked Yuuri’s staff away, pressing own against his adams apple. Yuuri looked up at him with narrowed eyes, his face flushed and his carefully coiffed strand of his hair coming undone. The picture he presented was a debauched one, Viktor bit his lip hershey as he shoved those thoughts out of his head before the rest of his blood rushed south. 

Viktor was to vehently apologize for manhandling Yuuri but he kept mum deciding he could apologize later when they were alone. He extended his hand instead. Yuuri muttered underneath his breath as he clasped Viktor’s hand. 

“Damnit.”

“One to one, what were _you_ say, Yuuri?” Viktor taunted as he lifted Yuuri back up. “Let’s make a bet, darling.” 

Yuuri stood with his staff held before him, pointing it towards Viktor. He held the staff tighter in his grip, feeling the sweat drip down his back and his heart rushed with adrenaline. 

“What do you have in mind?” Yuuri asked. 

Viktor advanced, pressing down a flurry of blows that most cadets would have to scramble to block bu Yuuri met them in earnest, deflecting them and adding his owns moves in. Their staffs crossed, the wood nearly buckling underneath the pressure. Viktor blew away the strands of hair nonchalantly. 

“A date with _you._ ” 

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasped, turning red. Viktor smirked and side stepped taking advantage of the distraction, swinging his staff sharply. Viktor lifted his staff up in time to block but Yuuri kicked his in the stomach, pushing Viktor off balance; as he flailed he grabbed his leg and hosted his before slamming him into the floor. 

Viktor was glad that the mats below them were so soft, he gaped up at Yuuri who remained red. He fixed Viktor with the same disapproving look that Viktor had come to love. 

“Two to one,” Yuuri said as he stepped back.. “We’re supposed to be setting an example for the cadets,” He hissed. “Flirt with me later.”

“I’m not flirting.” Yuuri gave him an unconvinced look that rivaled Lilia’s. “Okay, maybe I am. But that’s not my point.” 

“Viktor,” Yuuri sighed. 

Viktor sat up, ignoring the dull throb of pain from his shoulder. He rolled it and got back up. “Why not, Yuuri?” He asked, picking up his staff. 

Yuuri bit his lip and Viktor desperately tried to keep his eyes away from the place where his shirt stuck to his skin due to sweat. Never had Viktor been more thankful, but damn, how was his heart supposed to survive? Yuuri Katsuki was as dangerous as the weapon he held in his hand. 

Yuuri lowered his staff, his stance rigid. He said nothing leaving Viktor hanging yet again. 

They circled each other like two predator, eyes dark and muscles straining. Viktor felt his heartbeat, roaring past his ears and against his sternum. His eyes looked for a sign of weakness that he could use to his advantage, Yuuri was too guarded for him to make a move so he waited with bated breath for him to make the first move as he always did. 

Yuuri liked offense compared to Viktor who went to defense, he liked to attack his opponent directly before they could strategize against him. Every block, every swipe, ever strike Viktor threw, Yuuri deflected it. 

Viktor stirked, swing his staff in a wide arc that had Yuuri jumping back. He slid his hands down, firly gripping the end before swinging, his staff directed towards Yuuri’s toso. 

Yuuri ducked out of the way, rolling to side and coming up behind Viktor. 

He had barely any time to turn or black Yuuri as he kicked him in the back, Viktor tilted forward and landed harshly. Viktor cursed at himself for leaving himself exposed, for letting Yuuri get past him. Now it was too late. He flipped onto his back, reaching for his staff in order to black the next blow. He could’ve used his arm to do it but Viktor wasn;t risking it.  
Yuuri wasn’t going to allow Viktor get back up, he lept and grabbed onto Viktor’s wrist, pinning it to the ground as he straddled his legs. His staff pressed flat against his throat and Viktor could only look up at his face, breathing hard and heavy. 

“Three to one.”

There was an impregnable silence around them. 

Viktor could care less. 

He laughed and nodded, admitting defeat. 

“Go out with me,” He said. His words were quiet and soft, barely a whisper but it felt like he was screaming out to the world. Viktor pressed their foreheads together, his free hand reaching up to cup his jaw. “Please, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri searched his face, relaxing his grip. He made no move to get up off of Viktor, he just stared into his eyes with a vulnerable expression as his cheeks turned to a softer shade of pink. Viktor found him captivating, he could think of none more worthy of his heart that Yuuri; the man who defeated him and he……. looked at him as if he were expecting Viktor to tell him it was all a joke. 

Viktor would never break Yuuri’s heart, and he'd spend as long as it took to convince Yuuri of that. He just needed Yuuri to say yes so that he could. 

“Okay,” Yuuri said after a long pause. 

“Okay?” Viktor sat up, his hand searching for Yuuri’s. Some of the cadets looked on as if they were watching a soap opera but none of them wanted to open their mouths and ruin the moment. Even Minami stood there, face red as a tomato and barely concealing his excitement. “You mean it? That’s a yes. You’ll go out with me!” He sigh and fell back onto the mats, covering his face and squealing into his palms. “ _Yuuri!_ ” 

Lilia only rolled her eyes and told them to get up.


	7. Till The Rose Colored Glasses Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri glanced at the clock as he worked, Phichit didn’t miss it and neither did any of his assistants. They giggled silently, glancing at him occasionally as the minutes ticked by. They all knew who Yuuri was waiting for, it wasn’t a terribly hidden secret anymore. 
> 
> Ever since the Cadet Trials, _everyone_ knew that the Quartermaster and Viktor Nikiforov were dating. 
> 
> Is it considered dating when they haven’t even gone on a date yet?

Yuuri picked up the pair of glasses, similar to his own by black and with metallic accents. He inspected it for scratches or any other defects. 

It had only came in last night along with the parts for the Aston Martin. Yuuri felt pride swell in his chest as he placed them back down on the counter, designing something was only half of the process but seeing it through completion always made him happy. Every single one of his creations cost a pretty penny, and even if they would most likely be damaged by his agents, Yuuri still felt proud for being able to create something that he could call _his._

“Are those the new glasses?” Phichit chirped, kicking the door of the lab open as he stumbled in. The stack of boxes in his arms looked ready to fall over. Yuuri rushed over to his to take some of the load off. 

“They came in last night.” Yuuri set the boxes down and swiped the palms of his hand on his otherwise pristine lab coat. There were already ink and coffee stains, dirtying further only meant that Yuuri could ask for a newer lab coat. “I’m excited, it's only a prototype for now but I was hoping to test them before I gave Lilia the all clear.” 

“Cool!” Phichit picked up on of the glasses and put them on. He took out his phone and snapped a selfie. Yuuri felt his pocket buzz a few minutes later. 

Yuuri glanced at the clock as he worked, Phichit didn’t miss it and neither did any of his assistants. They giggled silently, glancing at him occasionally as the minutes ticked by. They all knew who Yuuri was waiting for, it wasn’t a terribly hidden secret anymore. 

Ever since the Cadet Trials, everyone (and that included Lilia as well) knew that the Quartermaster and Viktor Nikiforov were dating. 

Is it considered dating when they haven’t even gone on a date yet? 

Yuuri and he discussed it briefly, sometimes over text or during lunch but with Viktor’s hectic (as well as unpredictable schedule) and Yuuri’s constant hours in the lab, it had somehow slipped. It had only been a week since Yuuri had pinned Viktor down on the mats and the latter asked him out like it was the last thing he would ever do. 

A small part of him worried---scratch that---a large part of him worried that this wouldn't work. Asking someone out on a date didn’t necessarily guarantee it would work out in the long run. Yuuri wasn't stupid, oblivious and stubborn maybe but he knew he wasn’t as naive or wide-eyed as others thought he was. Yuuri could never quell the fear that bubbled up in him. The moment that Viktor saw how messed up Yuuri really is…..what would he do? What if Viktor didn't like Yuuri, what if he found him too much or too little or nothing like what he imagined? What if Yuuri disappointed him so badly that he didn’t want anything to do with him? Would he shy away from his scar, mental and physically, or would he ignore them? 

That stupid little ‘ _what if_ ’ got him in circles and Yuuri wanted it to stop. 

Viktor was someone dear to him, he didn't know what to call the feeling associated with him; warm and soft and nerve-wracking---Yuuri thought it would be appropriate to call it love. He had graduated from an innocent little crush eons ago, what he had now wasn’t an infatuation either; it hurt but Yuuri thought it was the sweetest poison he had ever tasted. 

Yuuri had problems. 

A lot of them. 

He kept most of them under lock and key, carefully controlled by the pills in his pocket and his therapy sessions with Seung-Il but that didn’t mean that they didn’t manifest and spillover from time to time. Yuuri let himself slip once, months ago when it was just him and Viktor in the shooting range. He had pulled down his mask for only the briefest of moments before pushing it back into place. Viktor only stood there, touching his face tentatively like Yuuri was made of glass as he searched for a meaning behind his words. He had been always terrible with dealing with other people and their emotions, it wasn’t his fault that Yuuri was weak. There was no other way to tell him, Yuuri only stayed close to him as he drowned. 

“I think you three o’clock appointment is here,” Phichit nudged him, whipping Yuuri back into reality. “Should I clear the lab or are you guys going to keep it PG for the sake of the children?”

“Phichit!” Yuuri squeaked, playfully shoving his friend. 

Viktor stood at the door, his coat slung over his shoulder. He caught Yuuri staring and winked. Yuuri felt like a teenager in a cheesy American rom-com, he was the Quartermaster for god's sake but somehow Viktor dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a blue tie make him incredibly weak in the knees. 

Professionalism? 

Yuuri didn’t know her. 

“Oh, he winked!” Phichit fake whispered, giggling at Yuuri’s lovestruck expression. “Better go to him, Yuuri. Who knows what else he’ll do if you keep him waiting. Lab safety, remember.” 

“You, Phichit Chulanont, are the _worst_ ,” Yuuri said as he swiped the glasses countertop. “You’re lucky I put up with you, young man.” 

“I know you mean that with love, Yuuri!” 

Viktor’s face lightened up as Yuuri approached him, the blue of his eyes somehow brighter underneath the fluorescent lights of the lab. Yuuri was screwed the moment he met Viktor Nikiforov, and damn it, he should’ve seen it coming. Viktor Nikiforov was like a hurricane that left nothing up to chance.

“Yuuri!” Even the way he said his name made his heart skip a beat. (Yuuri wasn’t complaining though, he liked it even if he never admitted it.) “I missed you, darling!” 

“You only saw me this morning,” Yuuri chuckled softly. 

“Far too long without seeing your lovely face,” Viktor said, leaning down to press his forehead against his. Yuuri did not tense up, he felt light and relaxed even if half of his staff were staring at him like he grew three heads. He craned his head, hoping just maybe that Viktor would kiss him properly. It was a good try but it seemed Viktor wasn't falling for it. It was all in his plan about properly romancing Yuuri. It was interesting to know that Viktor was a romantic at heart. But still, Yuuri wanted his kiss. 

“You said that you had something for me?” 

“I did?” Yuuri said, slightly dazed by a pair of pretty blue eyes. Viktor smile widened further, his laughter ringing through his ears like church bells. Damn, Yuuri really had it bad. “Oh yeah!” He blinked, looking away and clearing his mind so that he could for clear and coherent sentences around his….boyfriend? (They still needed to talk about that.) “I wanted you to try something out for me.” 

“A present for me? Oh, Yuuri! That’s so sweet!” Viktor teased. "You shouldn't have."

He showed the glasses to Viktor, amused by the way he looked at it as if it were some alien object. 

“It’s…..not what I expected.” He plucked them out of Yuuri’s hand and inspected it. “Thank you?” 

“They came in last night.” 

“Oh! What do they do?” Viktor asked him as he slipped them on. “How do they look?” 

If Viktor noticed that Yuuri turned bright red do to where his thoughts went, he kept them to himself and spared him the embarrassment of having to explain.

Viktor was the type of person who looked good in anything he wore. He would have worn a potato sack and camo paint Yuuri would still think that he’s the most beautiful man in the world. What was even worse was that Viktor had no idea how he affected Yuuri, he practically had his heart palpitating because he looked so damn good in glasses. 

Yuuri fucked up.

Breath, dammit. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don't panic---

(He was really glad that Phichit didn’t clear out the lab.)

“ _Fabulous_ , Vitya.” Yuuri said as Viktor preened, reaching up to turn them on. “They’re a prototype that I designed so that means I only have a few at the moment.” 

“X-ray glasses, my Yuuri?” Viktor peered over the frames like a judgemental librarian. “Isn't that a little….cliche? I thought you didn't like gadgets that were basic.” 

Yuuri snorted. “I do and they’re not just X-ray glasses, Viktor. They have several features like night visions and GPS, I even had a tracking device installed just in case because _somebody_ likes going off the grid too often.” Viktor didn't even bother to deny it, he just blinked at him innocently. “Can you promise that you won’t destroy it?” 

“I make no guarantees.” 

“Viktor.” 

“Fine, darling.” Viktor pulled them off, and Yuuri mounted on the inside. He knew that he would get shit from Phichit later. It wasn't his fault. “I promise not to destroy your prototype.” 

“That’s all I ask for.” Yuuri plucked the glasses from his hand, turning it off before handing it back. 

“Are you free tomorrow night, Yuuri?” Viktor asked him as he tucked the glasses into his coat pocket. 

“I think so. Why?” 

Yuuri needed to work on several reports as well as analyze data that Lilia wanted ASAP and try to work on the Aston Martin. He knew that his hours were getting in the way yet again. Did the universe want them to date or not?! Yuuri didn’t know who he pissed off be he would gladly grovel if it meant that he got to spend time with Viktor. 

“I was supposed to go on a mission but Georgi took over for me instead,” He smiled, sheepishly. Viktor glanced at Yuuri nervously as if he was expecting Yuuri to say no. It wasn't the first time Yuuri had seen Viktor nervous, it was a rare site that few were able to gaze upon. It made Yuuri even happier. “I know we’ve been trying for a week so I found a place and I want to take you out to dinner. It’s cliche but I’m not really good at this dating thing so---” Viktor started blabbering, turning a little pink. He looked less like Viktor Nikiforov, the dashing and suave spy, and more like Vitya, Yuuri’s sweet and adorkable boyfriend. Yuuri loved him even more. “I asked Chris, not that it was much help, but---”

“Vitya,” Yuuri said softly, shutting him up. “What time?” 

“Will seven work for you?” 

“Seven is perfect!” Viktor grinned. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Yuuri’s head. It wasn't the kiss he wanted but Yuuri’s heart fluttered in his chest as his lips lingered. Every kiss that Viktor gave him was to be treasured. “I can't wait.” 

“Neither can I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day? I have no idea what's up but whatever I'm on, I need more of it. I'm pretty sure I can call it sleep deprivation at this point.


	8. The Kindest of Kisses Break the Hardest of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wear something blue,” He suggested, pointing at the soft blue button down that hung off the chair. He didn't know why Yuuri was stressing over this. Yeah, so it was a date with Viktor but _honestly_ , if Yuuri showed up dressed up in an elegant potato sack, Viktor would still be drooling over him. “This would be over a lot faster if you let me pick something out for you, Yuuri.” 
> 
> Yuuri shot him a flat look. Phichit only smiled smugly, shaking it off. “The last time I let you pick out something for me, I got stupidly drunk and started stripping. Or at least I think I did.....the jury's still out on that one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date night, baby!

Yuuri had many many gifts and fashion was not one of them. 

“Phichit,” Yuuri cried out weakly, sinking to his knees on his bedroom floor. “I’m doomed. At this rate, I'm going to look like a hot mess.”

"You _are_ a hot mess." 

Phichit rolls his eyes. He flips one or more page of the magazine he’s reading and looks down at Yuuri whose clutching a rather ugly sweater vest close to his chest. He would’ve laughed but Yuuri looked close to a breakdown. He smiles fondly at his friend who looked less like a cool-headed Quartermaster he had come to know and more like a high school girl. Vicchan, the world’s most adorable poodle, looked up at Phichit asking silently if his owner was okay. (Matter of fact, he was not.) Yuuri was only seconds away from canceling the whole date and drowning himself in junk food. 

“Wear something blue,” He suggested, pointing at the soft blue button down that hung off the chair. He didn't know why Yuuri was stressing over this. Yeah, so it was a date with Viktor but _honestly_ , if Yuuri showed up dressed up in an elegant potato sack, Viktor would still be drooling over him. “This would be over a lot faster if you let me pick something out for you, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri shot him a flat look. Phichit only smiled smugly, shaking it off. “The last time I let you pick out something for me, I got stupidly drunk and started stripping. Or at least I think I did.....the jury's still out on that one." 

Phichit shrugged, his smile growing wide as he remembered the secret cache of pictures from that night. (Hopefully Yuuri wouldn't find it, there was only one other person than himself who had copies of those pictures. Phichit threatened to blackmail Yuri Plisetsky if he ever spilled the beans about the pictures, usually threatening the furious kitten with another dance-off shut him up pretty quick.)

“Correlation _does not_ imply correlation, Yuuri.” 

“But---”

“No buts!” Phichit gets up and stalks into Yuuri’s closet, his eyes aflame with determination. He rolls up his sleeve dramatically. “I’m your fairy godmother and you're going to the ball! Prince Charming is gonna fall in love with you so fast that he won’t even need a shoe, he’ll marry you on the spot!”

“I don’t think that’s how that fairytale works.” 

Yuuri watches Phichit rummage through his clothes, mumbling to himself as he picks up and looks at several articles of clothing with a critical eye. He’s grateful that he had Phichit here tonight or else he’d end up going to the date dressed up like a hot mess (which, let’s face it, he is.) 

Phichit emerges from the bowls of his closet, several articles of clothing slung over his arm, a look of triumph on his face as he dumps them on the bed. Vicchan yips as a shirt is draped over him, wiggling out of his sport before jumping off the bed and disappearing underneath Yuuri’s bed. 

Yuuri shoots his dog a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Vicchan.”

“This one!” He picks up a black and red shirt, the back was covered with mesh that was meant to show off his back. It had been something that Yuuri had splurged on when he was drunk, he didn’t even know why he bought it but Drunk Yuuri must have had an inkling to why. No wonder it had been left in the back of his closet, just looking at it made him blush. How could he wear that for a date?

When Phichit turns it around, Yuuri turns red and immediately says no. “But Yuuri! It’s sexy!” 

“How is a backless shirt a good idea for a first date?” Yuuri shakes his head. “I’d probably look ridiculous in it.” 

“Knowing your _dear_ Vitya, he'd appreciate it.” 

“Phichit, I don't know about---”

“Don’t you want to seduce Viktor or not?” Phichit asks, raising his eyebrow as Yuuri turns even redder. “Or is this a thing where we wait till the third date till you fall into his bed? Because if it is, just let me know when---” 

“N-Neither!” Yuuri stutters out. “I don't want to ‘fall into his bed!’ At least…..not yet---”

“I knew it!”

“---And we agreed to take it slow and I just want to look…..nice.”

“Huh,” He says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know if that's the cutest thing I’ve heard or not.” 

(“Probably not.”)

“Fine, I get it. You two want to be boring and take it slow.” Phichit groans. He throws his arms in the air, tossing the backless shirt behind him and picks up the baby blue button-down instead. It isn’t what he would wear but anybody could pull off absolutely cute and sexy, it would be Yuuri. He just needed to give Yuuri a little push and some courage, preferably of the liquid kind. “But at least allow me to do your makeup.”

“That’s alright with me,” Yuuri said as he took the button down. He smiles shyly at Phichit “What would I do without you?” 

“Crash and burn,” Phichit said without hesitation as he pushed him towards the bathroom. Yuuri laughs, swatting his hands away as he gathers up the rest of the outfit Phichit had assembled. “Hurry up and get dressed, Cinderella. I have an hour to work my magic.”

“You’re the best!” 

“I know, darling.” Phichit preened, shooting Yuuri a wink. “Now hurry.” 

 

 

“Chris,” Viktor groans, nearly tripping over his words in worry. He only hears a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. “What do I do?” 

“The usual, Viktor. Just like they taught us in the academy. Slid in, sweet talk your way through. Get what you need and slide out. Although I think that last part you can save when you two are alone,” Chris said, sounding extremely bored. “Just do what I told you, treat him like you’re on a mission.”

Viktor didn’t feel like that was the best idea. Yuuri would probably try to poison his drink if he found out Viktor treated him like he was some nameless face on a mission. He was trying to prove to Yuuri that he was boyfriend (and husband) material, not a hairbrained spy that would leave him for the next pretty face. Not that he ever would do such a thing, he wouldn't even dream of breaking Yuuri’s heart like that but…. Yuuri didn’t seem to know that yet. 

This was his chance to prove it to him. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He said doubtfully. “That’s not how you treat Phicht, right? Because I’m certain Yuuri wouldn’t like it if you did.”

“Phichit isn’t a target but I’m a honeypot, cherie. Seducing people is supposed to be my _raison d’etre_ but I know better than to treat Phichit like that,” Chris pointed out sharply. “And who else are are you going to ask for romantic advice? Georgi? Nobody wants to touch him and his relationship problems with a ten-foot pole.” 

“That’s the thing!” He exclaimed, several of the patrons around him gave him funny looks but he ignored them. “Yuuri’s not a target either, he’s…..”

“What?” 

“He’s special.”

“Special?” Chris asked, his voice slightly incredulous. To him, this must’ve been entertainment. And Viktor didn't blame him, he was being dramatic enough fot the both of them. “Sure about that?”

“That’s rich coming from _you_ ,” Viktor said smugly. Chris goes silent and he knows he’s got him. “If anybody knows what I’m going through, it’s you. Oh, how is Phichit doing by the way?”

“Touche, Nikiforov.”

“I don’t know, Chris. Yuuri is just so…..wow!” He said, dreamily. Just thinking about Yuuri Katuski made him melt from the inside, how was he going to survive the whole night with him? Lilia would give him a lecture about being emotionally compromised but at the same time, she would lecture him about treating Yuuri right. Yakov would too, they were both so confusing. “He’s so incredibly strong and smart and beautiful and cute! And have you seen those thighs because let me tell you; the man could probably kill me with his thighs and I would be totally fine with that!”

“Only you would find that a turn on,” Chris said. 

Viktor could practically see him rolling his eyes.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Gross.”

“Hypocrite.”

Chris laughs. “Look in the mirror, cherie.”

“I am,” Viktor quips. “And I look amazing as usual. I know, darling. You can save your compliments for after.” 

“You are truly the worst, Nikiforov.” 

Viktor beamed, “Thank you, Christophe. That means a lot coming from you.” 

“Do you feel less nervous now?” Chris asks, chuckling softly. “Can I go back to serenading my boyfriend with selfies, preferably of the semi-nude variety, or do you still feel like a teenage prom queen about to throw up into the nearest potted plant?”

“You continue to be a beacon light for all those in need, Chris,” Viktor drawled. He glanced down at his watch, helpless as the seconds ticked by. His nerves had no intention of cooperating with him but at least he was no longer feeling as nervous. “Oh, whatever would I do without you?” 

“Pine endlessly and wax soliloquies about Yuuri Katsuki's ass. Order some wine and relax, Vitya,” He tells him, drawing their conversations to a close. For once, Viktor takes the hint. “Good luck with your date and try not to jump the poor boy. He has high expectations for you.” 

“High expectations?” Viktor yelped, his heart gripped by near panic at the implication of his words. “Chris! What do you mean—-?”

"Goodnight." There was a click and then silence, marking Chris’s abrupt exit from their conversation. 

Viktor grumbles and pockets his phone. He signals a waiter, intending to take Chris’s advice about the wine. He wondered if Yuuri liked red or white wine, maybe he was more of a champagne type of guy but this was a date so wine would be appropriate. Viktor could save the champagne for a later day. There would be plenty of reasons to celebrate in the future. 

The young waiter walks up to him with hunched shoulders, eyes downcast and his lips twisted into a scowl. He seemed either nervous or extremely agitated, no doubt that long hours on his feet and bratty customers made him a little less warm. Viktor briefly glanced up as he approached him, a menu and notepad in hand. 

“What can I get you?” 

Viktor didn't really take offense that he didn’t say ‘Sir,’ He picked up the small menu and skimmed over the limited selections of wine.’ He was here for Yuuri and the excellent food, not the customer experience. Lilia was the one who recommended the place to him, she even helped him to get a reservation. 

“I need a bottle of the rouge de vine, chilled and please make sure that----”

“Viktor Nikiforov.” He looked up and not to his surprise, he saw a gun pointed at him. The waiter’s hand trembled slightly, no doubt this was the first time holding a gun. He’d give this guy some credit, he certainly knew how to hide a gun. 

Viktor almost took pity on him. 

Almost. 

“Hands behind your head,” The waiter said loudly. “Don’t do anything funny or I’ll---”

Viktor didn’t give him a chance to shoot. He sprung forward, grabbing his arm and _twisting_ till the waiter dropped the gun. There was a loud crash at the table flipped, throwing plates and candles all around. The waiter didn’t have much of a defense, Viktor reeled his arm back and punched him square in the face. He went down, falling gracefully as a sack of potatoes. 

(He was going to have to talk to Lilia about the establishment she frequented.)

“Nikiforov!” Viktor turned to see who called his name. Several men and women dressed in matching suits stood up, guns out. “Our boss wants to have a chat with you.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Viktor groaned. He pulled out his own gun, his trigger finger itching just to kill. 

So much for a perfect night, looks like he’ll have to throw his plans out the window now. When he got out of here, he was going to find whoever ruined his night and make them pay. Now if only he could call Yuuri and tell him that dinner was canceled. 

_“Poor Yuuri,_ ” Viktor thought sadly, _he was really looking forward to this night too._

“Come with us or else we will---”

“Oh, shut up.” Viktor squeezed the trigger without batting an eyelash, the sickening sound of the bullet finding its target was satisfying. He turned to the others, a chilling smile on his face as he stared them down. 

“Anyone else?” 

 

 

_Breath in and exhale slowly, you’re not late and for once in your life, you actually look decent._

Yuuri walked up the restaurant that Viktor had said to meet and stopped in his tracks. He gaped at the name of the restaurant, images of celebrities and millionaire coming to mind as he stared at the expensive looking doors. 

Phichit was right! Viktor really did go all out for their date. Sadly, that made him even more nervous.

All of a sudden he felt woefully underdressed. 

Yuuri shook his head, shoving his hands into his pocket and trudge forward. Tonight wasn't about fancy dinners or wine, he was here for Viktor. He kept reminding himself to think of the positives with each step he took; for one, he looked really nice tonight thanks to Phichit and his magical fingers. The younger man had told Yuuri that if Viktor wasn't floored by the mere sight of him, then he was a blind idiot that didn’t know the difference between a sows ear and a silk purse. 

He pulled open the door, a blast of warm air hitting his face as he entered. 

Yuuri noticed several things that were wrong. He might not have much experience but he was certain that there was someone who would always greet you and offer to take your coat. And two, there were several bullet holes in the glass. The restaurant looked like it had seen better days; some of the tables had been overturned in a hurry along with purses, shoes, and food strew across the bloody red carpet. It was as if the patrons had suddenly been spooked like a herd of sheep and congregated in a panicked mass towards the exit. Yuuri smelled smoke as well.

He immediately pulled out his gun, as several gunshots rang out. Already on edge and extremely anxious, Yuuri’s first thought was not about safety or protocol but about _Viktor._

As Yuuri began to run further into the restaurant, he heard more gunshots. He ducked behind a pillar, his heart blared past his ears, his heart in his throat. Yuuri didn’t want to know what he would find. Yuuri felt his muscles stiffen as the sound of angry shouts and footsteps drew closer. He peaked around the corner to see a figure was running towards him, dressings impeccably head to toe in a dapper suit. 

His eyes widened.

“V-Viktor!” Yuuri lowered his gun as Viktor came to halt before him, cheeks flushed and blood speckled across his shirt. Blood oozed from a cut on his cheek but other than that, he looked fine to him. “What the f—“

“Yuuri!” Viktor grabbed his hand, pulling him along as they made their way to the exit. Yuuri felt the rush of several bullets whiz past their heads and one person yelled out ‘Nikiforov’ angrily. He didn't bother to look back. “I’m so sorry, darling. I’m afraid our date is compromised at the moment.” 

That was an understatement. 

“You don’t say, Vitya!” 

They run out into the night, past the doors and the pedestrians, waiting for Boone as they race away hoping that they weren’t spotted. Yuuri holds onto Viktors hand like it’s a lifeline, the cold wind rushing through his hair and undoing Phichits hard work. He doesn’t care, all Yuuri can think about is how warm Viktors hand it and the way he turns around to throw him a smile. 

Viktor and he end up in a park, sitting on a bench as sirens sound off in the distance as they catch their breath. It's quiet here, no one to bother them. 

“Ow,” Viktor hisses as Yuuri presses his handkerchief to his cheek, the white folded cloth now tinged red at the corners. “Gently, darling.”

“You and I both know that you’re not that fragile, Viktor,” Yuuri said, tilting Viktors face to see if he’s hurt anywhere else. Other than a bruise on his neck, no doubt from someone trying to strangle him, and blood on his lip, Viktor looked okay. He wasn’t sure about the rest of his body but he was in no worry to find out. “Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere else?” He asks him, concerned for his stupid and beautiful boyfriend.

"You look nice tonight," Viktor tells him, his eyes softening as he nuzzled Yuuri's palm, laying a kiss there and closing his eyes. 

This had to be a fever dream. 

Was this man for real?

"Viktor......"

Yuuri shoots him an exasperated look. "I mean it, I can barely look away from you."

"That's not an answer."

“I didn’t get shot if that's what you're asking.” 

“I’m fine,” Viktor insists, placing his hand over Yuuri’s and leans into his touch. The gesture is surprisingly gentle that Yuuri nearly melts into the bench. He bites his lip but doesn’t say anything, only watching Viktor reassures him. “Just a few scratches and bumps, I’ve had much worse in the past. Don't worry, darling.” 

“Goes and nearly get kidnapped, and he tells me not to worry,” Yuuri mutters, rolling his eyes. He takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly, but the worry stays. “You’re lucky I don’t call Lilia right now and bring you straight back for HQ.” 

“And ruin our date?”

Yuuri gapes, “This is a date?”

“Wow, Yuuri.” Viktor raises his eyebrow sharply. “Chris was right, you really do have high expectations for me.” 

“No!” Yuuri shakes his head, scrambling to say the right thing. “I mean that—-you know, are we still going on a date after….that? Don’t you think we should figure out what happened and report back to HQ?” 

Viktor goes silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Yuuri knows he’s right, as much as he’d love to continue this, they needed to get back and figure out how someone knew Viktor was going to be there at that restaurant at that exact time. He had used an alias and Yuuri had made sure that there was no paper trail when Lilia booked it. Something didn’t sit right with him and Viktor knew it too. 

“Can it wait till the morning?” He finally said. 

“Viktor, I don’t think—-“

“Yuuri,” Viktor begged, holding his hands in his and looking into his eyes. “Can’t I be selfish tonight? I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

Yuuri’s heart flutters a little in his chest. His resolves folds faster than a house of cards, especially when Viktor looks at him like that, eyes soft and watery as he silently begs Yuuri for a chance to spend this night with him. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so stupid but Yuuri seemed to have little to none of a defense when it came to Viktor. 

“Okay.” 

“Great!” Viktor said, pulling Yuuri up. His hands are still warm, Yuuri can feel his palms starting to sweat in his gloves but he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s anxious or too warm. “I’ll make it worth your while since our venue kinda….you know,” Viktor shrugged sheepishly, smiling in a way that hid his embarrassment. “I promise that I’ll be the perfect gentlemen and I won’t do anything you like, Phichit mentioned that you like lilies but I forgot them at the restaurant and I—-“

Yuuri touched his finger to his lips, Viktors words died on his lips soon after. “It’s okay.” 

Viktor turned pink, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” He offered him a shy little smile, squeezing his hands gently. Yuuri didn’t know where this boldness was coming from but he didn’t question it. “I don’t care, as long as I get to spend some time with you, it’s enough for me. Just be yourself, we’ll figure it out. Just like we said, right?” 

“Nice and slow,” Viktor recalled. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and pulled him flush against his body. Yuuri grinned, hiding his face in Viktors neck as he inhaled the scent of his cologne deeply, his arms wrapping around him tightly. “I just want you to know that I’m happy. Like really, really happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” 

Yuuri wasn't known to use his words, he preferred to keep things to himself until they overflowed. It was easier to hide his smile when Viktor wasn’t looking at him. His own heart was beating against his ribs, barely brushing them with its force. 

“Same,” Yuuri uttered, not trusting himself to say one more word. 

 

 

Viktor would never stop being amazed by Yuuri, and he knew that looking away was like tearing his eyes out. 

Yuuri was beautiful in and out, that was that. 

They spoke softly with each other, the frostbitten wind as their witness as they walked around the park leisurely. Viktor held Yuuri’s hand, his thumb brushing circles into the material of his gloves as he spilled what he could. 

Words came easily to Viktor, it wasn’t hard to strike up a conversation and keep it going but speaking to Yuuri didn’t feel tiresome or boring. There was no protocol or lesson that he needed to adhere to, he could simply speak freely watching Yuuri’s expressions where new eyes as he absorbed his words. It was possibly the most liberating thing he had ever experienced! 

Yuuri held thing close to his chest, unfurling bits of information slowly till he trusted Viktor enough to tell him something about himself. 

“So you like the color blue, your blood type is A Positive, you have two PhD’s and you have a dog that you named after me?” Viktor clarified with his classic heart-stopping grin. “Yuuri! That’s so sweet! I’m very flattered!”

“It’s embarrassing!” Yuuri hid his face into his shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you’re parents let you get a poodle.” 

Yuuri went silent, he picked his head up, looking up at him with conflict clear in his dark eyes.

“Yuuri?” Viktor stopped, his hands gravitating towards his. “What’s the matter?” 

“Hey, Viktor?” Yuuri stares, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Do you remember your parents?” 

“No,” He answered truthfully. Viktor couldn’t even recall their faces, he knew he should feel guilty about it but he never really had time to grove for them. He was too young to even know that they were never coming back and too focused on surviving to care. “Do you remember yours?”

“There were the kindest people I ever knew,” Yuuri said, smiling sadly. It nearly broke Viktor’s heart as he saw the corners of his eyes prick with unshed tears. “They would’ve liked you, you know.” 

“Ah.” 

So Yuuri had been just like him, the perfect candidate for the academy. Alone and desperate, he fit the mold. At least he had Minako to guide him, Viktor didn’t have anybody until Yakov and Lilia took pity on him but that was until much, much later when he was barely into his teens 

He wondered what Yuuri’s family would’ve been like, he wanted to thank them for creating Yuuri and bringing him into this world. The longer he stared at Yuuri, the more he thought about what his parents must’ve looked like. Who had Yuuri’s smile? Who gave him his lovely dark eyes? Who helped him nurture his wit? Who taught him to be compassionate and to love? Who told him that it was okay to fight for what you believed in? 

As he put the pieces together, it broke his heart to know that Yuuri had gone this long without love in his life. It only made him want to hold onto Yuuri and never let go, to shower him in the love that he so clearly deserved. 

“Tell me more about them?” Viktor asked, he cradled Yuuri’s face in his hands, his thumb brushing across his reddened cheeks. 

“My Mother was the smartest woman I knew, my father was so kind that the entire town respected him, and my sister was a force of nature to be reckoned with,” Yuuri started, nostalgia painting his face. He still smiled though, recounting fleeting and happy memories. “And we used to own a bathhouse in a small town called Hatsetsu.” 

“It sounds wonderful.” 

“It was,” he shook his head as if he were trying to get rid of the memories. “Some of the details are fuzzy, it’s been so long that I can’t remember some of the small things.” 

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Yuuri looked up at him, his heart open and his breath bated. It was as if he was hanging at the edge, waiting for Viktor to bolt away from him. Viktor presses him closer, pulled in by the weight of his gaze on him. “It’s was so long ago. I’ve made my peace with it.” 

“I don’t remember my parents,” Viktor admitted. He pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s, grieving for something that wasn’t in his grasp. “I remember being living on the streets more than I remember them.”

“You really has no one?” Yuuri asked, his tone of voice airy as if it were unbelievable. 

“No.” A beat of silence passed. “But not anymore.” 

Yuuri whispered, squeezing his hands yet again. “That’s good.” 

They continued on in a mutual silence that felt neither awkward or heavy. Yuuri’s prescience alone was soothing, putting his heart at ease. He could not tear his eyes away from Yuuri, taking in every detail of his face; from the crisp eyeliner that lined his eyes to the way his nose crinkled to the soft blush of his cheeks. 

He was entranced. 

Eventually, they realized they had been wandering in circles too busy being lost in one another. 

“I don’t want this night to end,” Viktor admitted as they made their way to the entrance of the park. It was late into the night, cold and quiet excepted for the sounds of the neighborhood around him. The midnight hour had long passed.

“It’s pretty sappy but neither do I,” Yuuri replied, chuckling. “It’s not an ideal date but it’s definitely interesting.” 

“I’m sorry that it couldn’t be better.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” He said. “I’m spending time with you, I’m not complaining.” 

Viktor stopped, pulling Yuuri into his arms and wrapping his arms around his waist right. He felt like his heart was overflowing, the words balanced at the tip of his tongue and threatening to fall over his lips like a waterfall. Yuuri was looking up at him with expecting eyes, waiting for him to move as he breathed in shallowly, his eyes flitting down to his lips. 

“I want to do this again.”

“Getting chased out of a restaurant by a bunch of thugs and wandering around a park aimlessly?” Yuuri joked lightheartedly. 

“Preferably without that part,” Viktor giggled. "Although 

“Yes,” Yuuri nodded, his hands Viktors face tenderly. He leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. “Preferably.” 

“Next week?” 

Yuuri sighed, “I’m going to Hong Kong next week.” 

Viktor bit his lip, hopeful. “The week after?”

“I’m accompanying Lilia to a security meeting.” 

“That’s unfortunate,” Viktor said. “I don’t think she’ll consider rescheduling.” 

“It is,” Yuuri hummed. “What about this weekend?” 

Viktor beamed. “I’m free as a bird.” 

“Then it’s settled.” He said, standing in his tip goes to kiss Viktors forehead. It was a fleeting brush of the lips but Viktor felt like he was burning from the inside out. Yuuri Katsuki was lethal and silent in his attacks, easily wrecking Viktor with the briefest of kisses. 

“You missed,” Viktor said. 

Yuuri pulled back giving him a confused look, his eyebrows scrunching up adorably. “What?”

“My lips are right here, Yuuri,” Viktor said, pointing to his lips. 

Yuuri gasped softly, turning even redder. 

“Oh.” 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Viktor told him, glancing down to his lips and wondering how soft they would be under his. He had fantasized about kissing Yuuri for almost a year now, he didn’t know if he could wait a few seconds more. “Can I kiss you, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri’s eyes widened and then fluttered shut, lips parted. “Please,” He breathed out. 

Viktor swooped in, touching his lips to Yuuri’s with the softness of touch. It was innocent and sweet, lingering like their touches till Yuuri deepened it. His fingers laced into his hair, tilting his head at the right angle. His lips were soft just as he imagined them to be and equally addicting, it was like taking a sip of ambrosia and Viktor knew he would never have enough. 

The kiss ended when they both needed air, Yuuri pulled away frost gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes, smiling wide as he carded his finger through Viktors hair. His cheeks were aflame and his eyes were shining, gazing up at his with ardent affection that reflected in his own eyes.

Viktor presses their foreheads together, kissing him once again. Yuuri smiled into their kiss, holding Viktor close just as he promised to do. 

The first rays of the daybreak filtered over them, casting the sky in a golden hue of rich color that pales in compariosion. It was a beuatiful start to the day. 

Neither of them really cared.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write more for this AU. *Shrugs* Depends on how much free time I have but if you did enjoy that please don't hesitate to leave a comment down below. 
> 
> Anywho, here's my YOI [Tumblr](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/) and my main [blog](https://inkandartistry.tumblr.com/).


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